


Romance in Rio

by hold_on_a_sex



Series: Paralympic AU [1]
Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: AU, Adoption, Disability, M/M, Marriage, Paralympic AU, Sports, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 54
Words: 183,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hold_on_a_sex/pseuds/hold_on_a_sex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paralympic AU! At the Rio 2016 Paralympic Games, athletes from all over the world come to compete. Some win medals, some are crushed by defeat, and some fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I’m a disabled athlete (track) and I decided to give this a go. I am not at Paralympic level, so I did a lot of research on life at the Paralympics :) Before you start reading, I wanted to give you a rundown of who has what disability. 
> 
> Dean has moderate quadriplegia from a spinal cord injury--he has some feeling in his trunk (and junk), especially on his right side, and moderate movement in his arms. One hand is completely closed, but the other hand can move and grip some. He has a PCA (personal care assistant) named Chris. Both of Aidan’s legs were amputated just above the knee when he was five as was his right hand, and he uses a wheelchair rather than prosthetics. Adam has leg length difference--his right leg is about six inches shorter than the left. Graham has cerebral palsy on his left side, and so has impaired movement and a noticeable limp. Richard is visually impaired and has been since birth, with very little light perception in either eye, with no color or movement perception. Jed has cerebral palsy on both sides, but it is relatively mild and he walks unaided. James has Friereich’s ataxia, with muscle weakness in his limbs, and he uses a wheelchair for distances. Orlando is fully paralyzed from the waist down, with probably a T-9 level injury--it's not relevant exactly where the injury is.

Rio was a sprawling city, filled with everything from the fancy houses of the rich inhabitants to the slums populated by the poorer residents, whose existence the wealthier tried to ignore. It was vast both in size and cultural importance, but, as the plane touched down at Galeão International Airport, Dean O’Gorman couldn’t spare a single thought for the history of the city, or any issues plaguing it currently. All he could think of, in fact, was if his racing chair, all the way back in the cargo area, had gotten at all damaged during the flight over. That thing had cost him a lot of money, and he wouldn’t really have time to get it sent off for repairs before the games started.

“Hey,” said a voice from his right. He looked across the aisle to Jed grinning at him. “Finally here, yeah? I never thought I’d make it, but… shit. I’ve got weelsdays before I throw against some of the best people in the world.”

“You’d better beat them,” Dean told the older man. “Make New Zealand proud and all. Are you only doing shot, or are you throwing javelin as well?”

Jed let out a little laugh. “I’d probably die of stress if I had to do both. I’m close to an anxiety attack just thinking of shot put. We can all be multi-event wonder boys like you, Deano.”

Dean grinned widely. “Yeah, I’m pretty impressive,” he said cheerfully to his teammate. “To be fair, they’re all wheelchair race events. There’s only one shot-put event, so it’s not like you could do more than one in that.”

“True,” Jed replied, still smiling. He felt like he would never stop smiling. He had spent so many years of his life working towards this goal, and now he was finally here, a top athlete to compete against other top athletes, to live in the athletes’ village and meet all sorts of other disabled athletes… it meant more to him than he could express. “Fuck, this time change is going to be awful,” he commented as he looked out the window and noticed how bright the sun was despite how tired he felt.

“That’s why we’re here so goddamn early for the games,” Dean pointed out. “We have to adjust or else we’ll fall asleep in the middle of an event.”

Jed laughed and put on an announcer-like voice. “And, in shot-put, Jed Brophy has fallen asleep with the ball in his hand. Looks like a loss for New Zealand.”

“Try not to do that,” yelled Tim Prendergast from a couple rows behind, making a few of their other teammates turn to listen to the conversation. “Swear to God, Brophy, if you fall asleep during one of these events, I will never let you live it down. You’ll be hanging out with your family one day a couple years from now, and then, boom, you’ll get a text from me, and all it says is _Remember when you fell asleep during shot-put in Rio? Because I do._ ”

“Fuck you,” Jed returned, still laughing. “I’d probably have nightmares about that anyway.” He gave a theatrical shudder. “Seriously, nothing would be more embarrassing.”

From the front of the plane, the team’s coordinator clapped his hands together loudly to get everyone’s attention. “We’ll be landing in the next ten minutes,” he announced, making everyone smile and sigh in relief--they were all sick of traveling by that point. “We’re going to head straight to the athletes’ village and get set up there, and you’ll have some free time over the next couple days to get used to the time change, with minimal scheduled practices. Support staff will handle everything from cargo, but you all need to get your carry-ons. Once we’re at the gate, we’ll get ambulatory people off first, and coaches and PCAs will get chairs sorted and to the right people. Everybody got it?”

There was a murmur of assent throughout the cabin before everyone turned back to their friends to continue soft conversations. “Hey, Deano,” Jed said, leaning across the aisle to poke his friend and get his attention. “Want my pretzels? I’m sick of them,” he added, tossing the bag to the younger man.

“How can you get sick of pretzels?” Dean asked, tearing into the bag and throwing a few of the miniature salty snacks into his mouth. “They are the best! God, Jed, you’re so weird.”

Jed shrugged, barely paying attention to his continuing conversation with Dean as he looked out the window. “The athletes’ village has a ton of cooks and meals for every country. As soon as I’ve finished my event, I’m going to eat everything I can get my hands on, man.”

Dean nodded along with Jed, now also looking out the window as they approached the landing strip, his heart rate speeding up just a little bit as he thought, for probably the hundredth time in the past three days, that this was really happening, that he was just a couple weeks from competing in the largest disabled sporting event in the entire world.

Once they had landed, the walking athletes on the New Zealand team left the plane to wait by the gate, some heading directly for chairs so they wouldn’t waste energy they would want to use later to explore the common areas of the athletes’ village. On the plane, the coaches and few personal care assistants at the front sorted out the wheelchairs and brought them to the team members who needed them, who waited in their seats--some more patiently than others.

By the time Dean’s personal care assistant, Chris, got his chair next to him, the older man was tapping his left wrist against the arm of his chair in boredom; as he was near the back of the place, he was one of the last to be let off. “Finally,” he groaned, wrapping his left arm around Chris’s shoulder and using his right hand to grip the redhead’s arm as best he could. “You stable?” he asked, not pulling or putting any weight on him without an answer.

“Yeah,” Chris responded cheerfully. “Just count so I’m ready.”

“One, two, three,” Dean counted out, pulling himself from the airplane’s seat and quickly getting himself into his wheelchair after the final number. “Give me a second,” he added, putting his hands on the wheels of his chair and pushing himself up a little to adjust his position in his seat.

Once Dean was ready, Chris led the way out of the plane. The carpeted little lane was too narrow for him to walk next to Dean’s chair, though the New Zealand Paralympic coordinators had made sure the plane was big enough that chairs could move up and down the aisle and athletes wouldn’t have to be carried to their seats.

Dean pushed himself slowly, too tired to go fast. The time change had exhausted him, and his body seemed to have no concept of what time it could possibly be. Chris, attentive to details as always, slowed his walk to match Dean’s pace.

Once off the plane and back in the crowd of his teammates and coaches, Dean perked up and began joking around with his friends as they walked and rolled toward the door that opened to two accessible buses, the wheelchair lifts already down and the doors already open. He waited in a loose line with the other men and women in chairs, breathing in the warm air of Rio and discussing the nice change from the winter back home.

* * *

“Who just arrived?” Richard asked, turning in the direction of the footfalls he easily recognized as Adam’s. “Some of our other teams?” He knew the goalball team he played on and the track team that Adam was on had both already moved into the athletes’ village, but otherwise he was unsure which teams from Great Britain had arrived, though he had heard a couple large groups of people come into the building since he had gone to his room to relax and continue his book.

“Nope,” Adam answered, sitting on the bed next to Richard and causing the mattress to dip slightly. “A few of the US teams are here, all of the New Zealand teams, and I think maybe half of Canada.”

Cocking his head a little to listen closer, Richard could hear the sound of people talking, voices and accents mixing as members of different countries’ teams greeted each other in the nearby common area. “Do you want to get food?” he asked Adam, realizing he was starving. His body had yet to adjust to the time change, as they had only arrived the day before, but luckily the cafeteria served food almost constantly.

“Sure,” Adam replied happily, waiting until Richard had stood and grabbed his cane before standing up himself. “Do you remember where the cafeteria is? I don’t,” he admitted, his grin pretty much audible. “There are probably signs or something if you don’t.”

“I have no idea,” Richard replied with a bit of a laugh, grabbing his water bottle and heading for the door to the room slowly, both to give himself time to tap around the unfamiliar room with his cane and to adjust to Adam’s walking pace, which was slower than Richard’s.

They wandered through the hallways, chatting happily between directions on signs that Adam read out to Richard. It only took them five minutes to find the cafeteria, which they agreed was an overall success. There was a cacophony of smells in the large room, with aromas from a worldwide variety of spices floating through the air. “Where’s basic British food?” Richard asked, a little overwhelmed by all the smells and the din of at least a hundred athletes conversing in multiple languages.

“Ahead and a bit to the right,” Adam replied after glancing around. He loved the space they were in, with wheelchairs and crutches and canes poking out from tables, all of which were far enough apart that even the bulkiest wheelchairs could easily maneuver between them. Unlike most places he went, nobody stared as he walked through the crowd, and he didn’t overhear a single conversation about how the sole of one shoe was six inches taller than the other to accommodate the different lengths of his legs. However, as they approached the buffet line of salads, sandwiches, and various meat dishes, he realized something that made him feel like he was twelve. “Richard, I don’t see anyone we know to sit with.”

“Oh, no, what if the popular kids don’t like us?” Richard responded in his best schoolboy impression, causing Adam to laugh. “We can find some people. I want to meet people anyway. The whole place is supposed to be designed to hang out with other athletes, according to an article on the internet.”

“Well, the internet is never wrong, so we’ll look for some other lonely-looking people,” Adam suggested, going first in line and grabbing a plate. “Food labels have braille on them, at shoulder height,” he added as he went down the buffet, filling up his plate with roasted carrots, a Caesar salad, and two dinner rolls. He waited at the end of the line for Richard, who was just a few seconds behind him, and then looked for a table to join. “To our right I see three people at a table,” he said quietly, not wanting the people at said table to overhear. “Want to join them?”

“Sure,” Richard replied; though he was often shy, he liked making new friends and really wanted to meet disabled athletes from other countries here, so he swallowed his hesitation and followed Adam’s footsteps towards the table, where he heard three voices--two Irish accents, one Scottish--speaking cheerfully in English about their favorite football teams.

“Could we sit with you?” he asked when his cane made contact with a chair. He grinned and felt for a seat when he heard positive answers from all three men at the table. Once in a chair, with his food, utensils, and water bottle in front of him, he faced in the direction of the three strangers. “Hi, sorry, we didn’t know anyone else. I’m Richard, I play goalball for Great Britain.”

“I’m Adam,” piped up his younger friend, who sounded like he was speaking through a mouthful of roll. “I run track. What are your names and, um, sports?” It felt like a cheesy get-to-know-you game that you might have to play in primary school, but both Adam and Richard wanted to dive into social interaction here.

“I’m Aidan,” said an excited-looking man with brown curls. “I play wheelchair rugby. For Ireland, obviously,” he added quickly, smiling at Adam, who waved back enthusiastically. It was all rather cliché and silly, but it made him happy all the same.

“I’m James,” started the next man, who was older and had thick glasses on. “Also Irish, but I’m a rower.”

“LTA?” Adam asked; one of his friends, David Smith, rowed with the British team in the legs-trunk-arms group and he wondered if his new friend would be competing with him.

“Yeah,” James responded. “My legs are weak enough that I use a chair for distances, but I can use them a bit to row. I’m in the mixed coed four.”

“I’m Graham,” the last man said, smiling widely. “Team Great Britain, along with you two, but I’m a swimmer, freestyle and butterfly.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Richard said, grinning at everyone before picking up his fork and taking a bite of his roasted vegetables. “Is there any salt on the table or do we need to go find some?”

There was a moment of silence, presumably where everyone looked around, and then Aidan said, “I see some on the next table. I’ll grab it.” Richard heard the squeak of wheels on the linoleum floor as the rugby player backed his chair up and turned, and in just a few seconds, the British man had a saltshaker in his hand.

“Thanks,” he said, shaking a bit of the seasoning onto his food before taking another bite. “Much better.” He ate a couple more bites of his food before starting conversation again. “When did you all arrive?”

“Aid and I got in three hours ago,” James replied from Richard’s left, stifling a yawn as he said it. “We’re pretty worn out. I guess you’re on the same page, though, since you’ve got the same time difference.”

Richard nodded. “Yeah, but Adam and I got in last night. Were you on the same set of flights?” he asked, turning to his right to face Graham.

“Yes, but I was early in the day. We send a lot more athletes than most countries, so we come in waves instead of all at once,” Graham explained, probably for the benefit of the two Irishmen at the table.

“We have just over fifty people competing, so they stuck us all on one jet from Dublin,” Aidan said, swallowing audibly before continuing. “We’ve got a pretty good turn out this year, since we qualified for rugby.” He sounded so excited about being on his country’s first-ever wheelchair rugby team to make it to the Paralympics that Richard could feel his own smile grow even wider.

“Probably all thanks to you, Aidan,” James teased, his fork clattering down. “Does anybody need anything? I’m going to put my dishes away.”

“I forgot water,” Adam admitted, realizing he was thirsty. “Could you grab a bottle?”

“Definitely,” James replied, backing away from the table carefully with his plate on his lap. “Any other takers?” When there were no replies, he made his way to the other side of the room, where Adam could just make out tubs for dirty dishes.

“Do you guys want to dick around with us this evening?” Aidan asked, stifling a yawn. “We’re going to hang out and watch movies or something to stay up til at least ten local time.”

“Sure,” Richard replied with a nod. “I have a team meeting at four, but I’m free after that.”

“Cool,” Aidan replied cheerfully. “Do you want to meet here for dinner and then head to one of the common rooms or something? I think that would be easiest. This place is fuckin’ huge, I can’t find anything in here.”

Richard smiled widely, happy that he had already managed to make new friends. “Sounds great!”


	2. Socializing

At who-fucking-knows o’clock (through the windows he could see it was dark out, but that didn’t help much), Aidan found himself sitting on the floor of the common area with a smattering of people. James had long since gone to bed, pleading exhaustion, but Richard, Graham and Adam were still up, and a man named Dean, who raced track for New Zealand, had joined them, along with his personal care assistant, Chris.

Aidan smiled as Richard explained the rules of goalball to Graham, who had a serious expression on his face that clearly denoted intense concentration on what the other man was saying to him, while Adam threw in some discussion about the spectating aspects. The Irishman tuned out their conversation, though, and scooted towards the couch on which Dean was sprawled out, using his arms and the remainder of his legs to push himself across the floor.

“Hi,” Dean said through a yawn, clearly exhausted but trying valiantly to stay awake. “Do you understand anything they’re saying?”

“Nope,” Aidan replied, moving himself into a comfortable position now that he was relatively close to Dean. “I got lost after the ‘stadium to be totally silent’ part. To be fair, I wasn’t really listening. I don’t have the longest attention span when I’m tired.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, me neither. Fuck, I know I should get some sleep, but my brain won’t shut up about how I’m in Rio for the fucking Paralympics, so I know I won’t fall asleep for ages.”

“I feel the same way,” Aidan admitted, leaning on the couch tiredly. “You’ve got a worse time difference, though, so I guess I’m lucky.” He yawned, lazily tilting his head to look at Dean’s face. It was a nice face, he decided, connected to a nice man, in both a physical and friendly sense. “Sorry, I feel like you already said this, but I’m fucking exhausted. What events are you competing in, again?”

“Wheelchair racing sprints,” the older man responded, obviously not caring that Aidan had forgotten. “I’ve competed in distances up to ten k, but there aren’t enough people in my category to have that this year.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows. “I forget that they do that in individual sports. Is your category small?”

“Relatively,” Dean explained. “It’s the moderate quadriplegic category, and it’s definitely smaller than the category for paraplegics or double leg amputees. Wheelchair racing is a lot harder for my category, since we have more limited upper body movement. Whatever,” he added, blinking the tiredness out of his eyes. “I know we’re athletes, but we can have non-sport conversations, right? Do you have an hilarious childhood stories?” He grinned widely. “I can start this off by saying that when I was a teenager, I got stuck in a letterbox and had to be cut out by firemen.”

Surprised, Aidan let out a loud bark of laughter, but quieted to little sniggers when the many people in the room, including those not in their little group, turned and looked at him. “Seriously?” he asked, barely able to speak through the laughter. “How did it even happen?”

“Let’s not go into that.”

“When I was six I used to run over my cousins’ toes with my wheelchair when they teased me,” Aidan offered in return. “But I think every kid in a wheelchair does that. It worked really well, though, ‘cause I had only been in a chair for a year so everyone thought it was an accident. I was a good liar.”

Dean snorted. “You must have been a little terror,” he told the younger man. “By the time I got in a chair, there were all these expectations of _maturity_ and _not running over people_ that I had to live up to. The only times I’ve run over toes were genuinely accidents.”

“So you claim,” Aidan teased, smiling. “My parents are just happy I wasn’t in a chair as a toddler, because I would have been even more awful than I apparently was. I was a biter,” he informed his new friend. “And if I’d been in a chair, I would have been a biter and a runner-over.” He looked confused for a moment. “I’m not sure if that’s the right word, but whatever. You get the point.”

“I bet you were cute as fuck, though,” Dean said before he could stop himself. Since he’d already said it, he decided to forge ahead and leave embarrassment behind. It wasn’t his fault Aidan was sweet and good-looking. “Maybe you weren’t even that good a liar as a kid, maybe you just gave them sad puppy eyes until they couldn’t be mad anymore.”

Aidan shrugged. “I like to think I was a great liar,” he said firmly. “Don’t disabuse me of this notion, Mr. O’Gorman.” He shifted his position, smiling. “No, really, we’re going back to your story. How did you get in the fucking letterbox? Did you wheel into it at top speed and then fall in?”

“No,” Dean replied, resigning himself to the fact he would have to at least partially explain it. “It was before I was in a chair. I was drunk and I think someone dared me or something. Look, again, I was drunk. I’m not really sure of the details. I remember the firemen cutting me out, though, because one was really hot. He was like one of those firemen in movies, but real.”

Raising an eyebrow as he filed away the information that Dean found men hot—score one for team gay—Aidan just grinned and laughed. “Are you sure he was hot, or was that the alcohol talking? ‘Cause, honestly, we’ve all had beer goggles at one point.” He smirked before reconsidering, “Or whiskey goggles. I’ve definitely had whiskey goggles in the past.”

“Sounds like you have quite the sordid history.”

“No, just some ill-advised snogging with guys who turned out to go to my family’s church,” Aidan replied with an exaggerated grimace. “Nothing like seeing a man you’ve kissed while at Catholic mass in Ireland, let me tell you.”

Dean laughed happily, rather glad to know Aidan liked men. He didn’t like to stereotype, but he knew that Ireland was a Catholic nation and he had worried that describing another man as hot would have disgusted his new friend. Plus, said new friend was hot and apparently liked to snog when drunk. This little fact could really improve Dean’s time in Rio, he decided silently. He was about to say something else to Aidan when he heard a snore from the other side of the couch. “Shit, I think Chris is out,” he said regretfully, knowing he should wake Chris up and head to bed now before the other man fell into a deeper sleep. “I’m going to head off, then. Can you poke him?” he asked, not in a position to wake up the redhead.

Once Aidan had gently prodded him a couple times, Chris sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry,” he said on a yawn. “This time change is a right bitch. You want to head to bed, Dean?” Once he got a nod, he gave Dean a bit of help transferring into his chair. They bid everyone goodnight, and then went into Dean’s room. “You and that Irish guy seemed to hit it off,” he observed aloud as he helped the blond with his evening routine in the bathroom. “Were you making eyes at him back there? Because it sure looked like it.”

“Fuck, am I that obvious?” Dean asked. “I was hoping it was subtle. I’m not trying to hit on him, but he’s pretty cute. I know you’re straight, but, come on, if you weren’t, you’d go for him, wouldn’t you?”

“If I were gay and unmarried, maybe,” Chris agreed as they left the large bathroom. “He seems nice, but also seems, uh, straight.”

“He’s snogged guys, he said so while you were asleep!” Dean said triumphantly, getting a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt from one of the drawers in the bedroom. With a tiny bit of help, he got on his bed and began to carefully work on the button and zipper of his jeans with his better hand, pushing himself off the bed with his arms once he was done so Chris could get the pants off him.

“Well, I stand corrected,” Chris replied as he and Dean efficiently got the older man dressed for bed. Chris had been working with Dean for enough years that they were a strong team and tended to be quick in everything they did together. “When do you want me to come by in the morning?”

“Eight?” Dean suggested. “If I get up then and stay up all day, I should be tired enough to go to bed at a normal time tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” Chris made sure Dean had his phone within reach in case of he needed any help urgently in the night, and then headed for the door. “Goodnight,” he said quietly, turning off the light and leaving once he had a reply.

* * *

It was mid-morning by the time Jed managed to find Dean. They didn’t have any team meetings until the afternoon, and everyone had gone to breakfast at different times thanks to jet lag. Finally, though, Jed discovered his friend in a common area, talking animatedly with a young man with dark curls. “Deano!” he called out to get the blond man’s attention. “Can I join you?” he asked in a softer tone once he was closer.

“Yeah, mate, of course,” Dean replied cheerfully, nodding his head toward the couch next to where he and Aidan had parked their wheelchairs. “This is Aidan,” he added, realizing he needed to do some introductions. “Aid, this is Jed. He throws shot put for New Zealand.”

Aidan extended his left hand and shook Jed’s happily. “Nice to meet you! I play wheelchair rugby. I think our first game is against your team, actually.” He made a face. “This is the first time we’ve qualified, and we’re up against a team that’s won a gold. I don’t think that bodes well for Ireland.”

Jed smiled encouragingly. “Well, we didn’t even qualify for London, so maybe we’re not the best anymore.” He turned to Dean. “All of track and field is meeting at two, right? I wasn’t paying attention to all the announcements on the bus yesterday.”

“I think it’s everyone,” Dean agreed after a moment of thought. “I was half asleep during that little talk, so I can’t be sure either.” He shrugged, obviously not too worried about it. “The only part I am positive about is that racing chairs were taken directly to the practice track.”

“Dean’s racing chair is like his baby,” Jed explained to Aidan. “He worries about it when it isn’t with him, constantly checks up on it, talks about it, has pictures of it on his Facebook page… it’s an obsession, mate, and I don’t know if it’s a healthy one.”

With a sigh, Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad,” he told the Irishman. “Okay, yes, there are some pictures of it on my Facebook, and I was really worried about it while we were traveling, but that’s because it was in cargo and it could have gotten damaged!”

“I understand,” Aidan assured his friend. “My chair for rugby is specially made for me and all, so I get it. I think it’s a wheelie thing, Jed. Our chairs are part of us. Also, they’re fucking expensive, so breaking them is like a nightmare.”

“See? See?” Dean crowed, happy that Aidan had just proved him not weird--well, at least not weird in terms of his love for his racing chair. “I told you it was normal to care that much!” He settled back into his chair more comfortably, done gloating. “What have you been doing, Jed? I haven’t seen you since we got here. Have you been having all sorts of torrid affairs already?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Jed didn’t bother to rise to the teasing, and instead just shook his head. “Mostly, I’ve just been sleeping,” he admitted. “I hung out with a couple guys from the team this morning and we explored the building, and then I went on Skype to talk to my wife and kid.”

“That’s sweet,” Aidan said, smiling sappily. He came from a loud, close family and was always happy to hear about other families. “Are they going to come to watch you throw?”

Jed nodded, beaming. “They’re coming in two weeks and then staying for two weeks,” he explained. “My kid wants to watch Dean’s events as well as mine. Dean gives him candy when my wife and I aren’t looking,” he added, glancing at Dean and rolling his eyes at the younger New Zealander’s beatific, innocent smile. “Don’t think we don’t know, O’Gorman.”

Dean shrugged, obviously not guilty about his actions. “So I buy affection from your child, Jed. It’s not that big of a deal,” he said breezily. “Is any of your family coming, Aidan?”

The younger man nodded exuberantly. “Yeah! My parents are both coming, and I think one of my cousins is coming too.”

“One of the ones you’ve run over?” Dean asked with a grin.

“Yeah, actually. It’s been almost twenty years, man, they’ve forgiven me. I think they figured out that they deserved it.”

“You ran over your cousins?” Jed interjected, eyebrows raised as if he had never heard such a thing. Dean knew his fellow Kiwi was nowhere near as innocent of this phenomenon as he pretended to be; the man had grown up hitting his own cousins with his leg braces when he took them off.

Aidan made a guilty face. “To be fair, it was just their toes, and I only did it when they teased me about my legs or my arm or tried to go places with stairs so I couldn’t follow. I was the youngest,” he explained. “They looked for every opportunity to leave me behind.”

Jed nodded sagely. “I can condone running over people’s feet if they’re being ableist,” he conceded. He looked like he was about to say something more when they heard a throat being cleared near one of the room’s doors and turned to see who had made the noise.

“Hey, British rugby, if any of you are here, you are supposed to be at practice right now,” yelled out a man with curly brown hair, pushing himself up in his wheelchair to try to see over people’s heads. “Oh, sorry, none of them are here,” he said with a rueful grin. “Back to whatever you were doing. If you see my team, though, yell at them for me.” He turned on the spot and wheeled out the door, probably to find another common room and hopefully encounter his missing team members.

Aidan turned back to Jed and Dean. “Not to gossip,” he began in a tone that clearly denoted that he was, in fact, gossiping, “but I think that’s the English coach who’s married to a movie star.”

“There’s an English Paralympic coach who’s married to a movie star?” Dean asked blankly. He didn’t really follow gossip about coaches and athletes--well, except the New Zealand ones, since he knew most of them.

Jed rolled his eyes. “Even I know that, Dean. He’s the wheelchair rugby coach and he’s married to that American guy who played Aragorn in _Lord of the Rings_. Where the fuck have you been that you didn’t hear that? Your favorite things are para-sports and gay issues, you should have been all over that.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, looking more interested now. “I honestly have no idea how that slipped past me. Did he compete before coaching?”

Aidan nodded, curls bouncing around his face as he did so. “He was on Britain’s team for three Paralympic games,” he explained, clearly excited to show off his knowledge of his sport. “He started at the Sydney ones and retired to coach after Beijing, because he was killing his shoulder, I think. He was assistant coach in London and the head coach now.”

“He married the Aragorn guy right after Beijing,” Jed added, sharing the little bit of trivia he knew. “Seriously, Dean, it was this whole big thing. How the fuck did you miss that?”

Dean shrugged. “Well, I know now,” he said placidly. “Want to get some lunch? I’m starved. I think my body thinks it’s dinner time or something.”

“Sounds good to me!” Aidan said, already turning his chair around to head for the cafeteria. Once Jed had gotten up, they started making their way through the halls, chatting loudly the whole way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note--though Jed wore leg braces as a child, he doesn't now. Some people I know decide they are more pain and effort than they are worth, and can function without them with physical therapy. Also, these chapters were posted really close together, but that's because I had written all of the first one and most of the second before starting to post this story, so it will be a while before the next one :)


	3. Practices--an Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps from practice to practice. I mostly know about wheelchair track, though I watch wheelchair rugby a lot, so other sports were written mostly with research rather than experience.

The head coach was still talking about strategy and the weaknesses of their opposing teams as Richard slipped on his blindfold, but after he took position on the floor, the lecture on their upcoming matches, starting in just two weeks, stopped, leaving utter silence until he heard the bell inside the ball jingling as it was rolled out into the court.

As with every practice, they started with basic passing and blocking drills, moving the ball between people by listening for the squeak of shoes and the movement of bodies on the floor as well as the noise of the ball. Richard slid around the ground with practiced ease, leaning and diving as necessary to stop the ball from going past him. After twenty minutes of warm-ups and some quick notes from their coaches, they moved into a scrimmage, stopping occasionally for suggestions and reminders from the coaches.

* * *

At the pool, Graham was swimming endless laps. Though he loved the water, he was a short distance swimmer and disliked the constant back and forth of long practices. He stopped at the end of a set, holding onto the wall for support, and looked up at his coach, who crouched at the edge of the pool to talk with him.

“You’re wasting energy by letting yourself go off-course for a few strokes and then correcting it,” his coach explained. “You need to be correcting with every stroke, McTavish, or you’re going to fall behind over time. You keep heading left, since your right side is stronger and moves more, but you’ve got to work on your stroke to push yourself straighter.”

Graham nodded, already thinking about how to adjust the movement of his right arm as if he were going to pull himself right, knowing that would help to correct the way he tended to drift. Though his right side was unaffected by his cerebral palsy, he walked with more of a limp and veered off-course in the pool far more than some of his teammates that had cerebral palsy on both sides.

He readjusted his goggles, took a deep breath, and went back to his laps.

* * *

Adam loved running, the way his shoes pounded on the pavement as he dashed around the track. He figured that part of his love for it was that he hadn’t done it as a child, that he had to wait so long to do what all the other kids did. When he finally learned to run at a disabled track clinic as a teenager, he had felt amazing. As a kid, he had felt held back by his legs, but after hitting the track for the first time, that feeling ended.

Now that he was at the Paralympics, he was pretty sure nothing could hold him back again.

* * *

Dean’s chest rested against his legs, and he pushed at the rims of his racing chair over and over, arms aching wonderfully the whole time. “O’Gorman!” yelled his coach as he reached out his hand to hit the compensator to turn. “Time your breaths with your strokes!”

He breathed harshly, drawing air into his lungs between strokes and shoving it out as he pushed himself harder, pushing the compensator back to go straight once he got around the curve of the track. At the end of the straightaway, he squeezed his brake and came to a stop near his coach. “Better?” he asked hopefully, looking up at the stopwatch in the older man’s hand, despite not being able to see the screen at all.

“Yes, better,” the coach said approvingly. “Get some water and go to the bathroom or whatever, and be back in ten minutes for some drills.” He smirked a bit as Dean groaned. “You can’t win medals if you don’t do drills!” he called out as the blond man pushed his racing chair over to his normal one, where Chris helped lift him into it and they headed off.

* * *

In a somewhat smelly weight room, Jed lifted. He had been lifting for what felt like eternity, but he was pretty sure it had only been an hour. His right arm was starting to ache, so he put down his dumbbell with a little groan and started to stretch, smiling at the trainer as she came by to check that he had stopped due to finishing his workout, not due to pain.

He made his way slowly over to their coach, giving the woman ample time to finish her conversation with one of his teammates. After throwing and working on his technique before heading into the weight room, he was pretty sure he was allowed to go back to his room and declare practice over with for the afternoon, but he just wanted to check.

* * *

Rowing on the open water, James reflected, was far better than practicing on the erg. He had been on the damned rowing machine for only thirty minutes and he was already sick of it. There was no satisfaction of watching the scenery go by as they swept through the water, no feeling of getting close to a goal, just… legs, trunk, arms, legs, trunk, arms. The repetitive motions became like a metronome to him, letting him zone out and lose himself in his own thoughts as he rowed.

He as jerked out of his mental ramblings when the coxswain came up to him to make him clean up his stroke, which had gotten sloppy when he stopped paying attention. “Nesbitt, let’s go through a power ten to get you back on track,” the woman said, standing in front of him to be at his eye level. “Ready? One!” she began firmly, counting out his strokes and encouraging him with each one. “Two! Press with the legs. Three! You can go harder. Four! That’s it. Five! Halfway there, Jimmy. Six! Give it all you’ve got. Seven! Good, you’ve got this. Eight! Almost there. Nine! Yeah, there we go. Ten! Good, now settle.” She watched to make sure his stroke continued to be strong and clean even as he finished his ten hard strokes, and then left him to talk to his other teammates.

* * *

In the gym, Aidan was turtled. Just a few seconds before, as the Irish team scrimmaged, he had slammed a little too hard into a teammate and was now on his back, looking up at the ceiling as his teammates laughed quietly at him. In a regular practice, he would be shoving himself up and getting back into the scrimmage quickly, but this was not only a chance for them to practice, but also their support staff. Anyway, he thought as he glanced down at his chair, he needed a wheel changed.

Two able-bodied men came into his field of vision, one holding a tire and the other carrying a thick mat. The mat was placed right in front of his chair, and when he was pulled up, his wheels rested on it, unable to move much as they sank in. “You all right?” the mat-carrier--Aidan thought his name might be Patrick--asked as the other man worked on changing Aidan’s wheel without him getting out of the chair.

“Yeah,” Aidan assured him, nodding. “It wasn’t a bad fall.” Once he had a new wheel one, he pushed himself hard to get off the mat, and waited until the men were off the court and the coach blew the whistle, and then it was back to work.

* * *

Honestly, Orlando loved his job. He would rather be playing than coach, yes, but with his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t really a possibility. Anyway, this exercised a part of his brain that wasn’t used in simply playing wheelchair rugby; he spent hours at home just watching videos of teams, both his and others. He would often lie on the couch, snuggled up with Viggo as their television played one of his countless DVDs of previous matches, and make notes on weakness--those of other teams to exploit, and those of his own team to correct.

What he didn’t like, though, was coordinating supporting staff. Okay, yes, he knew they were an indispensable part of the team. They needed people checking for injuries, repairing chairs on-site, replacing wheels, and even just giving the players water. On the other hand, he was tired of taking his eyes off practice to look over spreadsheets about the number of wheels they would have on hand and what sort of repairs would be able to be done however quickly. The numbers just made his head hurt, and being dyslexic meant it took him longer to read the information than it would take most people, meaning more time away from the practice.

“Yeah, that all looks good,” he said as he finally reached the end of the report. “We should probably have at least one more wheel on hand, though. Thanks, guys.” With that, he turned his chair around and went back to practice, yelling out tips as soon as he saw errors.


	4. Movie Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everyone. Hope everyone had a good start of the year and made some resolutions, if that's your thing, or got hella drunk, if that's your thing, or, if you're like me, stayed home and watched terrible movies :) What I'm saying here is I hope you had fun.

Though he still had the occasional “I’m in fucking Rio for the fucking Paralympics” moments, after a few days Dean was too exhausted from practices and the time change to feel the novelty quite as constantly or as vividly as he had the first twenty-four hours. Mostly, he just ate, lay down, and dicked around with his teammates and his new friends. Outside of the New Zealand team, he had grown closest to Aidan and Adam, the former of whom was far too attractive for Dean to stop thinking of. He knew that the athletes’ village tended to be a place where people threw modesty to the winds and fucked with abandon, but Dean was not that sort of man. Anyway, it wasn’t just lust he felt for the younger man, it was, embarrassingly, an extreme crush.

This was not Dean’s proudest time. He wanted to be the suave athlete who didn’t care, just rolled through the Paralympic games, winning hearts and medals alike. Secretly, it was what he had dreamed of since the moment he had first sat in a racing chair. However, he was feeling less cool and badass and more like a teenager, infatuated with a man he had met just four days previously. In his defense, Aidan was the sort of man that anyone would fall in love with quickly, but even he knew that four days was utterly ridiculous, a point driven home by Chris’s teasing when they were alone, and his raised eyebrows behind Aidan’s back when they were with the Irishman.

At the moment, he was sitting at a table, eating slowly as Aidan talked to him excitedly, telling him about life back in Ireland. The younger man had long since finished, but he was waiting for Dean, who ate slower due to less arm and hand movement. All of his friends waited for him when they ate together, but Dean appreciated it with Aidan more, since he loved spending time with the brunet.

“It was such a crazy night, I think Kevin flipped his chair twice, he was so drunk,” Aidan finished, smiling widely and hoping Dean liked his story about the antics of the wheelchair rugby team’s exploits back at home. He was happy to admit that they were probably not the classiest team, but they probably had more fun than some of the teams with more decorum.

“Remind me to never go out with your rugby team if I want to be alive at the end of the night,” Dean said mildly between bites of pasta and a salad. “Seriously, I’m surprised none of you died of alcohol poisoning or drunken accidents. Try not to die, please. I would be sad.”

Aidan grinned. “Well, if it’ll protect your happiness, I’ll work on it,” he promised, internally rather excited that Dean seemed to care. He wasn’t about to admit it to anyone--well, maybe James, but not his teammates and definitely not Dean himself--but he found his new Kiwi friend attractive and fun. Yes, Aidan admitted to himself, he could definitely see Dean as the type of guy he would take a tumble with, or even just the type he would want to snuggle with and wake up next to, kissing him with morning breath and maybe making him breakfast…

He stopped those thoughts as quickly as he could. He was not about to get all… all falling-in-love and shit over Dean. Though he was sweet and sentimental deep down, when it came to guys he preferred to love ‘em and leave ‘em. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, it was just that he was in his twenties and didn’t feel like being tied down.

“Aidan? Aidan?” Crap, he had completely stopped paying attention to Dean, hadn’t he?

“Yeah. Sorry about that, I sort of… mentally checked out for a second.”

“Am I that boring?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and pouting before smiling. “What were you thinking about that was so much more interesting than I am?”

Aidan shrugged. “I don’t know. Life, I guess. When do you have practice this afternoon? I have one from three to six, and then I think we’re eating dinner as a team, but I was thinking we could watch a movie or something.” Not wanting to be transparent in his attempts to spend some alone time with the irresistible Kiwi, he quickly added, “I’m feeling kind of tired, and I was thinking relaxing with just a movie would be better than staying awake for ages hanging out. Less effort, and all.”

Dean Lance O’Gorman was not the sort of man who backed down from the prospect of spending time with a cute guy. “That sounds really good,” he said cheerfully, spearing his last bite of pasta on his fork. “If we do it in my room, Chris can have a night off, too, since I can get in bed before.” He mentally high-fived himself as he realized this gave a great excuse to keep their movie night to just the two of them. “We probably can’t fit a big group in my room, though. I have my electric wheelchair in there, and with both our manual chairs, we’ll take up the whole room.

“Just the two of us is fine,” Aidan said, trying not to look like he cared too much. “I’m getting a little tired of constantly being in huge groups, to be honest. I love hanging out with people and all, but sometimes I need a night in. Want me to bring over some DVDs?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Dean answered with a short nod, and then turned his wrist slowly to look at his watch. “Shit, I need to get to practice soon. Come to my room at eight?” he suggested, putting his plate and silverware in his lap so he could go across the room to put his dishes away.

“Awesome!” Aidan said cheerfully, rolling away from the table and smiling to himself as he went to find some of his teammates to hang out with.

* * *

It ended up being a little after eight by the time Aidan reached Dean’s room and knocked softly. First their practice had run a little over, since a couple guys had been late, and then their coach wanted to have a discussion of various plays and tactics during dinner, and that had taken ages. Regardless, it was quarter past eight and Aidan was finally at Dean’s room, and he opened the door and went in once he heard a call of permission.

“Hi, Aid!” Dean said cheerfully from the bed, where he was lying in pajama pants and a t-shirt, the covers pushed down to cover just his lower legs. “I’ve got my computer here,” he said, pointing next to him to indicate his laptop. “I was thinking you can just lie down next to me and we’ll watch it on my lap? I don’t think the TV in here has a DVD player.

Aidan was pretty sure his heart had skipped a beat when Dean asked him to lie in bed with him. “Uh, sure, awesome” he said, tripping over his words in his haste to agree. “I mean, that sounds way easier than trying to find some other way to watch it,” he corrected himself, wincing internally that he had just told Dean that lying in bed with him would be “awesome.” He quickly maneuvered himself into the older man’s bed, trying to stay a respectable distance away so he wouldn’t a) seem creepy, and b) give into temptation and get handsy.

Dean smiled when Aidan got on the bed, happy to be close to the younger man. “What movies did you bring?” he asked, pushing himself into a move upright position.

“Just a couple of action movies.” Aidan pulled two DVD cases out of his backpack and showed them to Dean. “I mean, _Die Hard_ is a classic, and I really like _X-Men_ , but if you don’t like them, I can ask some of the guys on the team for other movies…” he trailed off, internally berating himself for assuming the older man would like the same movies he did.

“Awesome! I love _Die Hard_ ,” Dean said excitedly, getting his laptop on his lap and open so Aidan could slide the DVD in. In the process of doing so, he wiggled himself a little closer to Aidan so he could lean on the younger man. To be fair, it wasn’t just to snuggle; he needed help sitting up straight after a long day, since his abdominal muscles weren’t terribly strong or well controlled, but he didn’t mind getting closer to Aidan in the process.

Within thirty minutes, Dean was, quite unintentionally, sleeping on Aidan’s shoulder as the movie played in front of them, the gunshots from the film not even making the older man twitch. Though his shoulder was cramping up, Aidan couldn’t bring himself to move and possibly wake up the peacefully sleeping Kiwi.

In the end, it didn’t matter, because a particularly loud explosion made Dean awake with a snort, blinking and lifting his head off Aidan’s shoulder. “Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed that he had drifted off. “I had a long practice today, and I’m already in my pajamas so I guess it was just reflex?”

Aidan shook his head, smiling at Dean genuinely. “It’s fine, I get it. The whole reason I wanted to watch a movie was because I’m exhausted,” he assured the older man. “Sorry for keeping you up, if you were tired, man. I can go back to my own room and let you sleep, sorry…”

“No, no,” Dean protested quickly, shaking his head. “This is nice, Aid, and I should stay awake for a few more hours to keep a good sleep schedule.”

“If you’re tired enough to fall asleep on me, you should really get some rest!”

Dean shrugged. “You’re just… comfortable?” he offered.

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Dean, you seem exhausted.”

“I like being with you,” Dean protested. “I don’t want you to go, we can keep hanging out!” He rather regretted that after he said it, as he recognized it sounded a little desperate. It wasn’t like he wanted Aidan to figure out his little crush.

“Um, I can stay, I guess,” Aidan mumbled, blushing a bit. “I mean, I like you a lot.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, hopeful of what that could mean but unwilling to let himself get carried away and end up disappointed. “I like you too?” he offered hesitantly, leaving it open for Aidan to interpret.

With a grimace, Aidan shook his head. “No, I meant that I, you know, like you. Fuck, I should go, I sound like a goddamn pre-teen.” He planted his arms on the bed to start moving himself toward the edge--and toward his chair.

“Aidan,” Dean said loudly, making the younger man stop and look at him. “I feel like you should maybe kiss me now,” he mumbled. “Just a suggestion.”

Aidan didn’t need asking twice; he somehow managed to fling himself on top of Dean without hurting the older man in the process and kissed him enthusiastically. Only a need for air led him to break apart from the Kiwi’s wonderful lips. “This is a really nice development,” he murmured into Dean’s neck.

Dean couldn’t help but breathe out a little laugh. “Yeah, I’d say so too,” he replied happily, carefully moving his more mobile arm so that his hand and wrist rested on the small of Aidan’s back. “This is much better than _Die Hard_.”

Nodding, Aidan let out a hum of agreement. “Yeah, and I really like _Die Hard_ , so that’s saying something,” he said with a huge grin, tilting his chin up to kiss below Dean’s ear.

With a slight turn of his head, Dean opened up more of his neck for Aidan’s lips. “I… I’m not trying to break the mood or anything, but I feel like I’m about to drop off to sleep again,” he said apologetically, relieved when he felt the younger man smiling into his skin. “If you want to stay, feel free. I like a nice cuddle. But you don’t have to or anything, and Chris comes by at eight to help me get dressed and stuff.”

Aidan shrugged, rolling off Dean to curl up next to him. “I don’t mind waking up then,” he informed the Kiwi. “I have a practice at ten, so this will get me up and ready before that.”

“Sounds good,” Dean said, the second word drawn out on a yawn. He felt that this was moving a little fast compared to his normal life--sharing a bed with a man the same night they first kissed was definitely a change for him--but he felt special concessions could be made here. He’d heard the athletes’ village was practically sex all the time, so, really, they were moving slowly here.

He drifted off to sleep with a small smile on his face, comfortable and content as Aidan played with his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so great at writing the confessing feelings bit, so sorry for the relatively crap chapter. things will improve in the future, I promise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, please check out the end notes of this chapter. They address some stuff said in this chapter that I want to clear up.
> 
> Also, expect less frequent updates due to school and some increased health issues right now. Sorry! At the moment, I plan to update my two WIPs as close to equally as possible, but part of it will depend on which I'm more inspired about when I sit down to write.

Dean woke up a few minutes before eight when he heard a knock on the door. He smiled when he realized that Aidan was still with him, the younger man’s body pressed warmly against his own. He felt more than a little smug when Chris walked in and raised his eyebrows in silent surprise. “Don’t wake him up,” Dean whispered quickly.

Though he was close to Dean after working with him for years, Chris was rather shocked by this development. It wasn’t that Dean wasn’t an attractive man or that he didn’t get many girlfriends or boyfriends, it was that he was so sweet and slow-moving in his relationships (okay, partly it was less sweet and more the standard New Zealand male fear of commitment, but still). “Seriously?” he whispered back, coming over to Dean’s side of the bed.

“What? We just kissed and slept, stop looking at me like you’re all impressed I got laid,” Dean muttered, rolling his eyes.

Chris let it go, not wanting to embarrass Dean if Aidan woke up during their conversation. “Manual or electric today?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he waited for an answer. Despite seeming ready for the day, Chris was relatively exhausted, having stayed up a little late to Skype with his wife.

After a moment’s consideration, Dean answered, “Electric. Practice today is long, and I shouldn’t waste all my energy on pushing myself around the building.” He pushed himself slowly and carefully away from Aidan as Chris unplugged his electric chair, so far unused in Rio, and made sure it was turned off. “Want me to bring it over?”

“Nah,” Dean said quietly. “You can jut lift me the distance.” He shrugged. “You’re sort of shit at steering it.” It was true; despite Chris’s many talents and attempts to learn how to steer the power chair so he could move it for Dean as necessary, he tended to move less in straight lines and more in juddering, twisty paths that ended nowhere near where he meant to go.

Chris grinned, knowing Dean was absolutely right, and stood to help the older man get to his chair. “Okay,” he whispered, getting his arms under Dean’s shoulders and knees. “I’ll lift on three. One, two, three.” On the last number, he straightened his legs and pulled Dean from the bed, walking a few steps to get to the power chair before setting the blond man in it. “Comfortable?”

“Give me a sec,” Dean answered, placing his hands on the armrests and pushing himself into a better position. “Okay. Bathroom?” He flicked a switch to turn on the chair and carefully steered it toward the bathroom, glancing over at Aidan to make sure they hadn’t woken him up.

When Aidan woke up a few minutes later, he was the only one in the bed, and he could hear Dean and Chris talking and laughing quietly in the bathroom. He sat up, leaning against the headboard, and stretched his arms, which were a little tight from the previous day’s practice. He needed to pee and brush his teeth, but he wasn’t about to go back to his own room without saying goodbye to Dean and maybe making plans for lunch.

Instead of wandering toward the bathroom like a creep, Aidan just stayed in bed, yawning and stretching. He was rather surprised to see Dean’s manual chair against the wall; though he had seen the older man’s power chair when he had come to his room, he had never seen him actually use it. He let his gaze wander about the room, taking in the books scattered on the bedside table and the top of the dresser, as well as the framed picture of Dean with two older people, whom Aidan assumed were his parents, and a younger man--Aidan thought he looked like he was Dean’s brother. It was a nice photo, clearly taken after a race, as Dean was sweaty and still in his racing chair, but smiling widely. He wanted to see that smile on the older man’s face in real life, and since no Irish people had qualified for wheelchair racing, much less in Dean’s category, he felt no guilt about hoping the Kiwi would win a gold.

“Oh, hey, Aid, morning,” said Dean, coming out of the bathroom and seeing the younger man lost in thought. “Did you sleep well?”

Aidan nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “Hey, Chris,” he added when the PCA followed Dean from the bathroom. “I need to go back to my room and get ready for my morning practice, but do you want to meet up for lunch?” he asked hopefully.

“Sounds great!” Dean replied cheerfully, glancing over at Aidan even as he went through his drawers to find clothes for the day-- both regular clothes to put on right away, and athletic clothes to put in his backpack for practice later. “Are you free at noon? I have to practice at one, I think, and I’ve got a bit of morning weight-lifting, but I should be free at noon.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Aidan responded, sliding off the bed and into his chair. “I’ll see you later! Have a good time lifting weights,” he added, feeling a little silly after that. He waved cheerfully before wheeling out of the room… and almost colliding with Jimmy Nesbitt.

“This is not your room,” the older man said, one eyebrow raised. “In fact, I would be willing to bet that this room is the room of one Mr. Dean O’Gorman from the land that gave us _Lord of the Rings_ , the All Blacks, and _Flight of the Conchords_ ,” he added, smirking. “My, my, Aidan, what would your mother think?”

Aidan rolled his eyes, starting back towards his room, James going with him--and he knew Jimmy was just following him so he could tease him more. “Look, we kissed a bit and I fell asleep in there. We cuddled and it was nice. It’s not some sexy affair thing,” he finished pointedly.

“That’s adorable,” Jimmy said, still teasing but not harshly. “Really, Aidan, it’s sweet. A real romance, not a one-night-stand in the athletes’ village. I think it’s nice. Even your mother wouldn’t find this terrible.”

With a snort, Aidan shook his head. “I slept in the bed of a man I’ve known for four days,” he said drily. “I’m pretty sure that’s, like, five different sins. I think I’ll skip on calling home about this.”

James nodded, and then looked at Aidan a little more seriously. “Are you planning to keep something going with him the whole time we’re here? That’s almost a month.”

“Yeah. I think that would be fun,” Aidan answered, turning a corner to go to his room, which he opened and let James follow him into. “I mean, it’s just some fun and, I don’t know, stress relief or whatever while we’re here, and I really like hanging out with him.”

“I’m just thinking that a lot of feelings and attachment can develop in a month, Aid,” Jimmy explained gently, closing the door behind himself and parking his chair next to the wall to let the younger man do his thing.

Aidan disappeared into the bathroom, but, feeling like a preteen girl all the while, continued to talk through the door. “Yeah, I guess. I want to see how things go, though. Would it be so bad to end up with feelings about him? He’s great, and I’m honestly a little sick of dating able-bodied people,” he said loudly, making sure James could hear him.

“He lives on the other side of the world,” James called back, feeling bad that he was possibly bursting Aidan’s bubble. “And why do you not want to date able-bodied people?” he asked, a little confused. His own (lovely) wife was able-bodied, and he had seen the younger man date a fair amount of able-bodied men over the years.

“They don’t get it,” Aidan answered honestly, moving back to his wheelchair from the toilet and going to wash his hands. “All the able-bodied guys I date don’t understand how frustrating things can be, and a lot of them think they are doing me some sort of huge favor by dating me. I don’t know, I just want to try dating someone who knows what life is like in a chair and doesn’t think I’m broken or whatever.”

James rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re dating really shitty men, Aidan,” he pointed out. “Anyway, as I said, he lives on the other side of the world. That makes a relationship pretty hard. I’m not saying it’s impossible,” he added quickly. “It just takes a lot of commitment and I don’t know if you’d have that after three more weeks, you know? Long distance shit is hard.”

Aidan reappeared from the bathroom, going to the dresser to pull out clothes for his morning practice. “Look, James, it’s a casual thing. People do all sorts of shit in the athletes’ village. Stop acting like this is going to be some sort of huge thing from a romance movie. We’ll probably end up fucking a few times, hanging out for fun, and then going back to our regular lives. It’s not all dramatic,” he said, pulling off his shirt to slip on a clean one. Aidan was by no means a modest man, and, rather embarrassingly, Jimmy had seen him naked more than once (often when he was drunk, but he didn’t want to dwell on that part).

“Okay, yeah,” James said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, you’re just a lot younger than I am and I fee vaguely responsible for you. I don’t know why, you make a ton of terrible decisions that I can’t do anything about, but I just don’t want you to get your heart broken or anything while you’re here.”

Aidan shrugged. “I’m not a fifteen-year-old girl, Jimmy. I don’t do the whole broken heart thing after a total of three weeks. I’ll be fine. I’m not going to magically fall in love with Dean in a month.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important things to address:
> 
> 1\. A lot of people don't like to be lifted long distances to their chairs, but one time, before I got my manual chair, I helped a friend into the pool and had to move her power chair and nearly crashed it three times, so I can imagine Chris being like that. He and Dean have worked together long enough in this story that he is okay being carried a short distance, but that is a very personal choice.
> 
> 2\. I wanted to emphasize here that athletes can still use power chairs, some or all the time.
> 
> 3\. Aidan is expressing a very common feeling (at least, many of my friends and I have had it) when you've dated some shitty able-bodied people. By no means do I think that all or even most able-bodied people are like this, but I have had people suggest I go with them to places that turn out to have steps, and many dick-ish able-bodied people act like kissing/dating/fucking a person with disabilities is such a favor to a disabled person, which gets really annoying.


	6. A Bit of Bedroom Adventure

The following night was more of the same, with fairly innocent cuddles and kisses exchanged while lying in Dean’s bed, though Aidan went back to his own room to sleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay, but he personally felt a little uncomfortable with Dean’s PCA seeing him in the morning. Also, the New Zealander had an early practice, and he didn’t feel like getting up extra early with him. It wasn’t until the night after that one that they saw each other again, at dinner.

“Hey, you,” Aidan said happily, when he found Dean sitting alone with Chris in the dining room, clearly waiting for him to get there. “How was practice today?” he asked, smiling widely. Chris tactfully moved over to another table, where he began to chat with some of the other members of the New Zealand team--athletes, coaches, and the other PCA from the group.

“I think my arm is going to fall off,” Dean complained, but he was smiling too as he watched Aidan set his plate and water bottle on the table and pull up close.

“Just one of them?” Aidan asked, stretching his neck before digging into his plate of pasta and vegetables.

Dean took another bite. “Yeah, just one,” he replied cheerfully. “You, uh, planning to come over after this?” he asked a little shyly. “I’ve got the morning off tomorrow, so I was thinking that we could, you know, have a more, um, complete evening?” he finished, blushing.

Wiggling his eyebrows happily, Aidan nodded. “My morning practice is pretty late, so I’m definitely up for it. Want to tell me what sort of thing falls under your idea of a more complete evening?” he asked teasingly. “It sounds like my sort of thing.”

“I’m not about to tell you that in the middle of a crowded dining hall, you egg. It’ll be good, though,” the older man promised, laughing. “Let’s finish dinner first, though, yeah? I’m fucking starved.” After a long day of practices, he was grateful that not only was he eating a good meal, but that he didn’t have to practice again until the following afternoon.

“I look forward to it,” Aidan said cheerfully, eating a little quicker than usual to try to speed things up. Even after a full day of waiting to see the older man, ten or twenty minutes to eat suddenly seemed like too long.

* * *

Dean wheeled back towards his room, Aidan following behind so that they didn’t take up the entire hallway. This was so exciting and new to him. At home, he didn’t have sex with people within a week of meeting them. No, he dated nicely and was quite the gentleman. Here, however, he was about to have sex with a man he had met six days previously, in a room he was staying in for a month. They were completely sober, so he didn’t even have an excuse for the little fling happening, just that they were both young and attractive and dying for it.

When he heard a small cough, Dean turned to his right, still wheeling down the hall, and saw Chris. Fuck, in all the excitement about what he and Aidan were going to do, he had sort of forgotten that he needed to communicate with him about what they should do here. “I’ll just go, um, Skype my wife,” Chris said with a smile, much more tactful than Dean could imagine himself being if their positions were reversed. “Text me if you need anything, Dean. If I don’t hear from you tonight, I’ll come by at eight to do morning routine, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks, mate,” Dean replied, relieved that Chris had handled that before it could get awkward. He was still smiling excitedly when they reached his room and Chris continued walking towards the common area, and Aidan rolled up next to him. “Can you please unlock the door?” Dean asked politely. “Key’s in small pocket in the bag on my chair. Sorry, I can’t grip things that small.”

Aidan found the key easily and smiled cheekily as he unlocked and opened the door. “Don’t worry, the only things you’ll need to grip tonight are substantially bigger,” he told the older man happily, letting Dean go through the door first before following him in.

Dean rolled his eyes at the joke, but laughed all the same. “So, um, yeah, this is my room, you’ve been here before,” he mumbled, feeling a little awkward as Aidan shut the shut the door and locked it from inside. “Sorry,” he added with a little laugh. “I’ve never really done anything like this, and I don’t know what you’re supposed to say here. I mean, do I start with pleasantries or tell you to get out of your chair and onto my lap for some fucking?”

“Ooh, you like it in the chair?” Aidan asked, eyebrows raised in interest. “That sounds very, very good.” He rolled himself in front of Dean so that they were facing each other, and then put on his brakes. “Can I hold your shoulders to transfer to your lap or no?” he asked, leaning forward and placing his hand on the New Zealander’s shoulders but not putting any weight on him yet.

“Better to push on my legs, I don’t have much torso strength and control,” Dean told him, shrugging Aidan’s hand off his shoulders. “You’d probably pull me forward and then we’d be a pile on the floor and we might have to call Chris, which would be pretty fucking embarrassing.”

Aidan grinned. “I’m planning to keep it just the two of us for a little while, at least,” he said, sliding his left hand and the end of his right arm onto Dean’s thighs. “Okay, I’m going to move now,” he warned, and then pushed his weight forward and swung out of his chair, managing to get his ass on Dean’s knees before grabbing the one of the handles on the back of the older man’s chair and pulling himself in closer so he was chest to chest, face to face, and ass to groin with the blond. “Hello there,” he giggled, leaning in and nuzzling Dean’s neck, delighting in the groan he received in response. “Judging by the fact you suggested this position, you like to top?” he asked, grinding down teasingly as he sucked at the golden skin at the junction of Dean’s shoulder and neck.

“Yeah, I have more… ooh…” Dean interrupted himself to let out a sound of pleasure when Aidan bit gently at his skin. “I have more feeling in my cock than inside my arse, so I’d rather be on top, if that’s all right with you.” The last part of that was muttered into Aidan’s shoulder as he brought up his right hand slowly, bending his arm as much as possible to tangle his hand into the younger man’s hair. “Tell me if I’m pulling too hard, yeah?”

“I like a bit of rough pulling,” Aidan admitted cheerfully, using his hand to pull Dean from his shoulder so they could really kiss, tongues quickly slipping into each other’s mouths to explore sloppily. Aidan knew he could have more finesse, be more controlled, but he could feel Dean getting hard against him and he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything than feeling and tasting all of the man beneath him, licking inside his mouth roughly as he ran his hand and arm all over the torso beneath him. “Does this feel good?” he pulled back and asked, wanting to know what the older man liked.

Dean nodded, panting softly and leaning his head forward to rest against Aidan’s. “Yeah, it does,” he assured the brunet. “I have more… more sensation on my right side, though. Pay more attention to that, okay?”

“I live to please,” Aidan told him cheerfully, his hand already skimming across Dean’s chest so that it was on the right side, pinching his nipple and the end of his right arm ended up running up and down his ribcage, arse still grinding down the whole time. “Your cock feels like it’s the perfect size,” he informed the older man as he nipped his ear. “Can’t wait to have it in me, Deano.”

“Want it in the chair or on the bed?” Dean asked breathlessly, moving his more mobile hand out of the soft brown curls and down to Aidan’s shirt to tug on it as a rather obvious hint.

Immediately, Aidan stripped off his grey cotton t-shirt and began to carefully work Dean’s off of him, still grinding down the whole time. “In the chair, definitely,” he said as the two of them worked Dean’s arm out of the sleeve. “There’s something really hot about fucking in a chair. Especially knowing you’ll be using it in front of everyone tomorrow… fuck.”

Dean patiently let Aidan work on his shirt, even though it was far slower than when he got undressed with Chris. “Your mind is much dirtier than I would have expected,” he informed the younger man as the shirt finally pulled over his head and then off his less mobile arm. “You seem so adorable and sweet and then, bam, you like to ride strange men in their wheelchairs.”

Aidan just smiled. “Yeah,” he answered simply, and then ducked his head and began to suck on Dean’s right nipple, cock practically throbbing inside his jeans when the older man moaned loudly. “Pants off,” he gasped, squirming around on Dean’s lap to pull his own shorts and boxer-briefs off. “How do I help get these off as fast as fucking possible?”

“Well, you need to get out of my lap,” Dean offered helpfully, disentangling himself from Aidan’s gorgeous naked body to turn his chair so that he faced the edge of the bed. “Get up on the bed. Unbutton and unzip, then I’ll push myself up and you can drag them down, okay?” Usually, Dean took care of the button and zipper by himself, but right now he didn’t feel like wasting time and effort on them when he had a hot man to fuck. “When you’re done,” he added as nimble fingers quickly worked on the button and zipper of his jeans, “check in the drawer. I heard they put lube and condoms in all the rooms.” He placed his hands on the wheels and shoved up to pull his body out of his chair as much as possible.

Efficiently, Aidan pulled down Dean’s jeans and underwear, letting the older man relax back into his seat before getting them all the way off his legs and onto the floor. When he leaned over and opened the drawer of the bedside table, he was delighted in the results. “Thank God they think of everything,” he breathed, tossing the strip of condoms and a few little packets of lube onto the bed before sliding back onto Dean’s lap and moaning loudly as their naked bodies finally touched.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed as Aidan’s thick cock slid against his, making him shiver in ecstasy. “Jesus. Can you get yourself ready?” he asked, licking at Aidan’s shoulder. Though he didn’t have the dexterity in either hand to prepare the younger man, he more than made up for it in kisses and bites over Aidan’s neck and chest, paying close attention to the hard nipples that were right in front of his face.

“Your tongue is magical,” Aidan informed Dean in a low voice, grunting as he slipped a slick finger into himself, he back bowing a little to get him into the right position for this. “In the morning, can I feel it in other places?” he asked hopefully, wrapping his right arm over the other man’s shoulder to keep his balance.

Dean grinned widely. “If I can feel yours,” he promised, pulling at the Irishman’s nipple gently with his teeth. “If you’re up for it, I could even do later tonight,” he added thoughtfully as he pulled away to lick the sting from the red nub. “We’re young, I could definitely get it up again.”

Aidan pushed a second finger up inside himself and let out a strained laugh. “Well, let’s finish round one before we start thinking about that,” he suggested hips jerking forward as he fingered himself. “I’ll admit, I really like the thought of sucking you off in the shower,” he added, smirking as Dean’s eyes fluttered at the thought of that. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he growled, biting at the older man’s earlobe and thrusting his erection against the one next to it.

“You know I would,” Dean gasped, running a hand up Aidan’s strong back and then tracing his spine down to feel where the brunet has his fingers jammed up inside himself. He let out a moan when he felt the younger man press a third finger in while Dean’s hand was still down there. “Fuck, Aid. You think you’re ready?”

Aidan nodded vehemently, twitching his hips to ride his fingers. “Let me get the condom on you and then give you the ride of your life, babe,” he purred, withdrawing his fingers from his own body so he could open the condom and carefully roll it down Dean’s erection--which, he was happy to note, was the perfect size for him. He squeezed the last bit of lube from one of the little tubes and rubbed it down the older man’s covered cock, stroking a bit more than necessary to listen to Dean’s loud moans. “You are gorgeous,” he mumbled, arm still around one of Dean’s shoulders and using his hand to hold the older man’s cock as he slowly sank down on it, groaning at the sting and the wonderful fullness. “Fuck,” breathed, his thighs squeezing around the New Zealander’s hips as he used his arms to start rocking himself back and forth.

Dean felt like he could barely breathe through his pleasure, one arm pulling Aidan close, his wrist resting on the younger man’s back, and the other bent to clutch at the bouncy curls on Aidan’s head, pulling him in for a deep kiss. He had to break away after too short a time, though, to gasp for breath. “Faster?” he panted hopefully. Since he couldn’t thrust his hips up, Aidan had to set the pace on his own.

“Yeah,” Aidan grunted, rocking himself a little faster and harder, taking Dean deeper and finally hitting the perfect angle. “Fuck!” he cried out, head falling to the blond man’s shoulder as the blunt tip of the cock inside him pressed into his prostate and made his own erection jump and leak on their stomachs. “Christ, Dean…” he moaned, moving his hand from Dean’s shoulder to palm at his own erection.

“God,” Dean responded in a gasping voice. “You are so fucking tight, babe, I…” In the midst of all the sensations, he completely forgot what he was saying and concentrated instead on letting his hand drop lower down on Aidan’s ass to try to press his curled-in hand against the younger man’s stretched hole. He felt a stab of pride when the man in his lap let out a ragged moan after his knuckles made contact with the taut skin. “You’re beautiful like this,” he growled, licking a line up the younger man’s neck. “Fucking hell, Aid.”

Aidan rocked faster, now fisting his erection and pulling on it with short jerks. “Oh, God,” he hissed, moving his arm from Dean’s shoulder to the back of his chair so he could pull and push himself around the older man’s lap better, managing to get his thighs under him and use his ass and arm to start lifting and letting himself fall on the cock inside him rather than just rocking. “Yes!” he practically screamed, the hand around his erection speeding up as he felt Dean’s cock slam into his prostate. “Oh, God,” he groaned again, focusing his eyes on the New Zealander’s face and moving in to kiss him roughly.

Dean moaned into the kiss, pulling Aidan closer to him before breaking away. “I’m going to…” he trailed off, blushing and gasping loudly. “Sorry, it’s been a long time and I… you’re so…”

“It’s fine,” Aidan ground out, adjusting his grip on himself to get off faster. “I’m not far behind, babe.” He clenched his muscles to squeeze himself tighter around Dean to help bring the older man to orgasm. “Come on, Deano, want you to come inside me,” he wheedled, nipping gently at his partner’s neck before feeling him tense underneath him. “Fuck, yes,” he whispered as Dean let out a wordless cry, arms jerking around Aidan as he filled the condom. “Mm, baby,” he groaned, dropping himself down to feel Dean’s erection as deep as he could before it softened.

“Fuck, Aid,” Dean panted, leaning in to kiss over the younger man’s neck and chest, face at an awkward angle to watch as the brunet stroked himself at a frenzied pace. “Come all over me, babe,” he murmured, and grinned when that set the younger man off.

Aidan came with a soft hiss of Dean’s name, biting his lip as he spilled onto his hand and Dean’s stomach, getting them both sticky with the thick fluid. Uncaring of the mess, he relaxed and leaned into Dean, still breathing heavily in exertion. “You are really good at this,” he said tiredly. “Ten out of ten points, gold medal, all that.”


	7. Evening After

“Before we glue ourselves together like this, want to shower?” Dean asked softly, kissing Aidan’s hair gently as he turned his wheelchair so that it was facing Aidan’s once more, and then unwrapped his arms from Aidan so the younger man could push himself off of Dean’s softened dick--making them both hiss a little--and slide back into his own chair.

“Shower,” Aidan said decisively, letting Dean lead the way. “You’ve only got one shower chair, though, right? I guess I can sit on the floor.”

“Shower bench!” Dean crowed triumphantly. “If I’m having a really tough day, like right after I do a long race, Chris sometimes has to sit next to me to help me balance, so I have a bench that can support two people,” he explained as he opened the door to the bathroom, which was luckily large enough for both chairs to fit in and maneuver a little.

Aidan looked in at the shower bench, smiling at the size of it, and then turned his gaze back to Dean, who was slowly removing the condom from his now completely flaccid penis. “How do you want to do this?” he asked as the older man tossed the dirty latex into the rubbish bin. “Can I do what Chris does, or is that one of those things that requires standing and two hands?”

“Chris stands,” Dean replied apologetically, though he knew there was nothing to be sorry about; it was just his nature to apologize for random things. “My right hand is doing pretty well today, though, so if you get in first, I’ll pull my torso in with the shower bar and you can grab my legs?” he suggested, and then quickly added, “If you don’t feel safe doing that, we can sponge off or call Chris. He’s seen it all and doesn’t care.”

“Do you feel comfortable trying it before we call Chris for help?” Aidan asked, not wanting to put Dean in a position where he was scared of getting hurt trying this transfer. “I can get your phone to have in here before we even try,” he added, wanting to be able to call Chris quickly if they fucked up.

Dean nodded. “It’s in my backpack, so it’s already here,” he said cheerfully, motioning vaguely at the bag hanging from his wheelchair handles. “We’ll try, though. I don’t know how much you’ve gotten lifted by other people, but standard rule is if you start to feel uncomfortable at all, just say ‘down’ and we’ll get me back in my chair. It’s better to do that and then get Chris’s help instead of us dropping my sorry ass on the floor.”

“Got it,” Aidan assured Dean. Other people had lifted him in and out of his chair when he first had his amputations, but that was almost twenty years ago and he barely remembered it. Anyway, he had been five and tiny then, whereas Dean was in his twenties and relatively muscular. He quickly grabbed the shower bar and swung himself onto the edge of the shower bench before scooting himself into a more stable position that still left room for Dean. “Okay, um, I think I’m ready,” he said hesitantly, putting his hand and arm out to grab the older man’s legs but they hung in the air as he realized he had no idea what to do.

“Aid, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll text Chris,” Dean said slowly, looking at the shower bench apprehensively. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you don’t have experience with this and…”

Aidan nodded immediately, not needing an explanation. “If you don’t feel comfortable, we don’t do it,” he assured the blond, getting back into his chair. “Do you want me to hand you your phone? I’m going to put on boxers before Chris gets here. And maybe wipe some semen off myself,” he added with a quick glance down.

Dean asked for his phone and quickly received it, sending out a text to Chris saying he just needed a quick transfer and he was sorry to disturb him. “Can you wipe me off a bit too?” he asked Aidan when the younger man rolled back in, wearing his boxer briefs. He relaxed into his chair lazily as Aidan wiped them both down with a warm, damp towel, which he then left on Dean’s lap. He knew that this was something Dean and Chris were both used to, but as he hadn’t experienced it, he still felt a draw to protect the Kiwi’s modesty.

Within five minutes, Chris appeared in the bathroom, looking unfazed at Aidan sitting there as well. “Getting in the shower?” he asked cheerfully, getting on the side of Dean’s chair and slipping his arms under the blond man’s knees and arms.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, giving Chris a nod when he was ready to be lifted. In just a few seconds, he was situated on the shower bench, using his right arm to hold onto the balance bar. “Sorry for the short notice, mate. We were going to try by ourselves, but it didn’t feel safe.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “No shit,” he told them bluntly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I had to have training before I ever lifted you, Dean, and even then we practiced transfers a few times before getting you in the shower. That’s like starting Mario Kart on the hardest setting.” He backed Dean’s chair into the corner so Aidan could move more easily into the shower. “Want me to come back in thirty minutes?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “Or should I give you more time?”

“Half an hour should be good, yeah?” Dean asked Aidan, who nodded in agreement. “Awesome. Thanks, Chris.” He leaned against the wall and watched Aidan. Once they heard the door of Dean’s room shut, signaling Chris’s departure, the younger man pulled off his boxers and got onto the shower bench next to Dean, leaning his head on the New Zealander’s shoulder. After a minute, Dean giggled. “Um, Aid? You need to turn on the water.”

“Oh, yeah,” Aidan said, sliding from the bench and pulling himself across the floor of the shower with his arms. He reached up and was just tall enough to grab the faucet handle, which he turned towards warm. “Is that good?” he asked as the water sprayed down on Dean. The building’s water was really fast to heat up, which Aidan sort of assumed was a kind of magic, so luckily Dean wasn’t covered in cold water for more than a couple seconds.

“A little warmer?” Dean requested, and then nodded once the temperature was adjusted. “Perfect. Now come get clean with me.” He grinned when Aidan got back on the shower bench with him and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

Aidan smiled happily and reached around Dean to grab the bottle of shower gel that he saw on a little shelf. He squirted some into his hand and began to rub it over Dean’s chest, kissing at his neck the whole time. “You’re too attractive for your own good,” he muttered into the golden skin beneath his lips. “Sexy just hanging out in the common areas, unbearably hot when fucking me in your chair, and gorgeous in the shower.” He surfaced from Dean’s neck to start massaging the soap into the older man’s legs, and gave him a peck on the lips as he did so.

Blushing a little at the compliments, Dean shrugged. “Says the man who got me in bed in less than a week,” he replied. “I’m usually so much more modest than this, Aid! Usually there’s dating and kissing and maybe some handjobs or something before I fuck someone.”

“To be fair, there was some kissing before this,” Aidan replied serenely, finishing up washing Dean and switching to using the soap on himself. “Do you want to wash your hair?” he asked as he let the warm water rinse the shower gel from his body.

Dean shook his head. “Let’s just relax ‘til Chris gets here,” he said softly, leaning onto Aidan’s shoulder and moving his arm to lay his hand and wrist on the younger man’s thigh. “Do you need to go back to your room tonight?” he asked. “You can stay here if you want. You don’t have to or anything,” he added quickly, not wanting to pressure Aidan. “I just thought some snuggling would be nice.”

“You _are_ my favorite snuggle buddy,” Aidan said, pretending to weigh the options. “Of course I want to stay, you dork. I thought we agreed that when we mentioned the no early practices.” He grinned, kissing the edge of Dean’s jaw before getting into the older man’s lap again. “I would say the best thing about staying over is the possibility of another round or two…” he added thoughtfully.

“Oh my God, Aidan, are you seriously that horny?” Dean asked, but he didn’t exactly flinch away from the kisses being placed on his face and neck. “You got off like fifteen minutes ago!”

Aidan shrugged. “What? I’m a young guy, I like orgasms,” he said breezily. “I have a short refractory period. I can’t help it if you’re some old fart who takes forever to get it up again.”

“Shut up,” Dean replied, grinning as he elbowed Aidan gently. “What are your biggest turn-ons?” he asked.

“Ooh, is this like truth or dare?”

“Sure, just answer the question. I’m curious.”

“I don’t know. I like guys who are a bit grabby, I guess. If they pull me close and tug my hair and stuff I feel like they really fucking want me, you know?” Aidan began, still leaning against Dean lazily. “That gets kind of weird with able-bodied guys, though, ‘cause some of them try to manhandle as a power thing, like since they have more limbs they can move me around or whatever.”

“That’s pretty fucked up, Aid,” Dean said quietly.

“Yeah, I’ve stopped going out with able-bodied guys for a while. I think I only dated douchebags before.” Aidan shrugged. “I like it when guys want to kiss me, and I really liked when you touched me all over, even if your hands don’t really pinch or whatever. I think I just like being touched.”

Dean smiled and kissed Aidan’s hair. “I do a lot of touching,” he said happily. “I can’t open anyone up or jerk someone off while they’re riding me, so I touch all over. As a little tangent, my tongue can do some pretty fucking amazing things to cocks and arseholes, so, you know, keep that in mind.”

Aidan let out a little groan. “You can’t tell me to calm down my refractory period and then mention blowjobs and rimming,” he complained in a good-natured tone. “Dean O’Gorman, you will be the death of me here.” He smiled and bit down gently on the older man’s shoulder. “Do you get time off from practice to watch some events?” he asked after a minute or two of silence. “It’d be kind of fun if you came to watch our first game, since it’s against New Zealand.”

“I’d be torn between love of country and supporting you,” Dean protested. “But, yeah, I’ll come if I can. I need to check my schedule of events, though. I’ve got five races, and they’re spread out over a few days.”

Aidan grinned. “That means I should be able to make it to at least one!” he said happily. “I’ve never really watched wheelchair track, so it’ll be exciting. And you said your family is coming to watch, yeah? I can meet them and learn a bunch of embarrassing stories from your childhood.”

“Only if I get to do the same with your parents,” Dean agreed, though he felt a little apprehensive. This was supposed to be a little Rio fling, and meeting Aidan’s parents seemed less… fling-y. _It’s not a big deal to meet a guy’s parents if you aren’t dating,_ he told himself firmly. _Stop overthinking this shit._

“Deal,” Aidan replied, bouncing a little in excitement. “You know, I was thinking about hanging out with some of the guys tomorrow night, like Adam and Graham and them. Want to join us? You can bring Jed, since he’s a good influence and all.”

“Jed is a terrible influence,” Dean said. “He seems all responsible since he’s married and has a kid, but don’t let that shit fool you. I’m up for it, though, and I’ll see if he is. Would we be lying around and talking, or what?”

Aidan considered for a moment. “Talking, or maybe playing a board game or something. I found a cabinet with a bunch of games in it, and that could be pretty fun. Richard will probably come, since he and Graham are friends, so we’d need a game that’s accessible for him. I’ll dig something up, though.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean said cheerfully, liking the idea of bonding a little more with the other athletes he had met so far. He was thinking of something else to say, maybe something witty or interesting to impress Aidan, when there was a gentle knock on the doorframe. “Oh, hey, Chris,” he said, smiling up at his PCA. “Half an hour already?”

Chris nodded. “You sound surprised. Lost in each other’s eyes?” he teased, casually looking in the mirror to give Aidan a chance to position his body away from him. “Aidan,” he began, thinking of a solution to the younger man’s discomfort, “want me to pop out for a sec so you can get out and put on your boxers?”

With a sigh of relief, Aidan nodded. “That would be great,” he said, thankful Chris was aware of how uncomfortable he was, and tactful in dealing with it. “I’ll yell when I’m decent.” Once the New Zealander was out of the room, he lowered himself from the shower bench and scooted across the tile floor to turn off the water. He managed to snag a towel from the rack, and tossed it to Dean, and then grabbed a second one for himself. He dried off as well as he could while still sitting in the damp shower, and threw the towel on his wheelchair seat before pulling himself up and wrapping the towel around his hips to cover up. “Ready!”

Chris came back into the room, standing against the wall so Aidan could fit himself in the corner to give more room for Dean to transfer from the shower. “Okay, O’Gorman. Tell me when,” he said, once his arms were situated around the athlete. At Dean’s word, he lifted the older man and his towel to get him into his chair. “Right. Want me to help you get ready for bed, or do you want to do that with Aidan?”

After a moment’s consideration, Dean replied, “I’ll do it with you. It’ll be way faster, that way.” He could probably get ready with Aidan’s help, but he was pretty sure it was rude to ask for help with brushing his teeth and transferring to the toilet from a guy he had known for just a few days. “Aidan, if you want to borrow something to sleep in, I have sweatpants in the top drawer,” he said to the younger man, who nodded and left the bathroom for Dean to do his nightly routine.

In the bedroom, Aidan got out of his chair to sit on the bed and finish drying off, and then slid on a pair of Dean’s sweatpants, folding them up so the legs didn’t flop around and get tangled. He lay down with a yawn, lazily listening to Dean and Chris chatting in the bathroom. Chris seemed to be talking about his wife back in New Zealand, with Dean asking the occasional question. He liked the casualness of their relationship--no, not relationship, friendship with fucking--and how the older man was happy to let him stick around while he got things done with Chris.

A few minutes later, Dean came out of the bathroom, still naked, with Chris behind him. “If I get in bed with you, can you help me get boxers on?” Dean asked Aidan, smiling cheerfully when the Irishman nodded. “Great. One sec.” He found a pair of plaid boxers in a drawer and tossed them onto the bed, then got a quick lift from Chris. “Goodnight,” he called out as the PCA left, and turned to Aidan, wiggling his eyebrows. “I feel like there are some things we could do before I put these on. Want to take off those sweatpants?”


	8. First Race

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few chapters will be centered around the actual events of the Paralympics. It will mostly focus on Dean and Aidan, though I may put in other events that the two attend. Honestly, I mostly know about wheelchair track and wheelchair rugby, so I'm hesitant to write about other sports. Hope you like it!
> 
> For anyone who doesn't know what a racing chair looks like, [here's a link to one](http://www.sportaid.com/invacare-top-end-eliminator-osr-kneeling.html)

Waiting at the starting line was somehow simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. Dean felt like he might throw up, but obviously that was not an option. His first event would be the worst time to vomit. He knew that his parents and his brother were somewhere in the stands, cheering for him, and Aidan was somewhere there, too, and Jed with his family. Instead of comforting him, this just made him worry more. He didn’t want to fuck up in front of all these people that he loved. Not that he loved Aidan or anything, it was just… a figure of speech. Yeah. Figure of speech.

He shoved all thoughts out of his head and placed his hands, already wrapped up in his gloves, on the handrims of his racing chair as he waited for the starting gun to sound. He took a deep breath, not looking to see the men on either side of him--one from the US and one from China--and instead stared down, where his coach had attached a piece of tape that said “BREATHE” on the frame. He decided to pretend this was like any other international competition, not the Paralympics. When the starting gun went off, he punched at his wheels in the quick start before settling into long strokes. As the first turn came up, he pushed his hand out to hit his compensator to go left, though he still had to pop his front wheel to stay in his lane. He could see one man on his side that was almost even with him, and he came out of his turn and hit his compensator to straighten out.

He breathed in and out harshly, using all the strength in his arms and stretching them to use his full range of motion. He was getting ahead of the man who had previously been even with him, the other man’s front wheel even with his seat. He pushed harder, not really thinking, just going as hard as he could. His lungs were burning as he went into the next turn, but he just breathed harder, using what he could of his abs to drag his chest off his thighs and breathe easier. As he came out of the turn, he could see the finish line, but he could also see the contestant from Australia gaining on him. He let himself think about what he was doing--this was a motherfucking Paralympic race, and he wanted that gold. He wanted to have it placed around his neck and wanted his parents to scream happily and for Aidan to kiss him passionately that night.

His muscles screaming in protest about how hard he was pushing them, but this was his chance to win what he had wanted since he first saw a racing chair at a sports clinic. He threw everything he had into it, glaring ahead as he slammed his gloved fists into the handrims as he went for the finish line. This was his moment, he decided, and nothing was going to keep him from getting the gold. Sweat ran down his face as he got closer and closer. Ten more strokes and he would be there. Nine more, eight more… Dean bit his lip and pushed himself through the last of his energy. Two more strokes, one more…

“First place, Dean O’Gorman of New Zealand!”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Dean raised his hands up in triumph as he let his momentum slowly decrease. He could feel tears mingling with the sweat on his face, and he didn’t care one bit. It was almost impossible to believe that the screams in the stadium were for _him_ , that he had just won a gold medal in his first of three events. “Oh my God,” he said aloud as he put his hand down to his handrims and came to a full stop, watching as he coach screamed from the side of the track.

Before the medalling took place, he got to transfer into his regular chair, with the other New Zealanders who had watched slapping his back and congratulating him in loud voices. Chris got him into his manual chair and gave him a proud hug before letting him go up to receive a gold medal to the sounds of “God Defend New Zealand” playing through the stadium.

* * *

“Oh my God,” Aidan whispered, coming into Dean’s room, where the older man was lying on his bed with Chris helping his stretch his legs. “You were amazing!” he said, getting as close as he could to Dean without getting on the bed and stretching out to kiss the Kiwi’s cheek. “I can’t believe how fucking fast you were. You’re so… God, I had no idea how great you are.”

Chris put Dean’s leg back on the bed, making sure his basketball shorts hadn’t ridden up too much and still sat with the elastic at his hips and the hem at his knees. “I should leave you too alone to, ah, celebrate,” he said with a grin. “Dean, congratulations, again. I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded at Aidan before leaving the room, still smiling about how happy the two athletes seemed to be together.

“Hey,” Dean said softly as Aidan transferred up onto the bed and straddled him. “I don’t know if you know this, but, uh, I’ve heard winning is a pretty big aphrodisiac.” He put an arm around Aidan so that his hand rested on the younger man’s muscled ass.

Aidan smiled and leaned down to kiss at Dean’s bare chest. “Funnily enough, it turns out that watching you beat all those other guys and win a gold medal is a total turn-on for me,” he teased, gently biting down on the nipple in front of him. “I can’t believe my… my, um, the guy I’m fucking just won a _gold medal_ ,” he growled, avoiding trying to put a label on their relationship, because _boyfriend_ was true strong a word, even though it sounded pretty nice.

“I’m so happy this gets you hot,” Dean whispered, dragging his hand up the younger man’s back. “Imagine how turned on I’m going to be when you kick ass in rugby,” he added, groaning when Aidan ground down against his growing erection. He wondered vaguely what the Irishman had been planning to call him--was it going to be _boyfriend_ or _lover_ or what? “Do I get some sort of congratulatory blowjob, babe? I feel like that would be pretty nice. And I can reciprocate with a good-luck one for your match tomorrow.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, grinning widely when Aidan laughed.

“I think you _definitely_ deserve a blowjob after winning like that,” he said, getting off of Dean to pull the older man’s shorts and boxers down and off. “You weren’t kidding that winning gets you going,” he commented, looking at Dean’s partial erection, the head of which was shiny with precome. Without saying anything else, he leaned down and began to suck gently at the tip, his tongue playing with the slit.

Dean groaned loudly, his free hand resting on Aidan’s head as the one on the younger man’s back moved up to his shoulder. “God, babe,” he hissed, head tipping back in pleasure. “You’re so good at this, holy fuck!”

That encouragement was all it took for Aidan to slide his head down and deep-throat the older man’s salty cock. He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked hard, relaxing his gag reflex so he could get the whole thing down. The stump of his right arm rested on Dean’s hip; the older man couldn’t really thrust his hips up, but holding them down was habit from dating able-bodied men who tended to thrust and choke. He reached up with his hand and began to pinch Dean’s right nipple, rubbing his own erection against the Kiwi’s leg to get a bit of stimulation.

Dean gasped loudly, shuddering in pleasure. “Fuck,” he moaned loudly, running his hand over Aidan’s curly hair. “This is definitely going to motivate me for my other events,” he added with a breathless laugh. He was pretty sure this was one of the best blowjobs he had ever received. “I’m sorry but I might be on a hair-trigger, babe…”

Pulling up for a moment, Aidan grinned and kissed Dean’s hip as he caught his breath. “Don’t apologize,” he panted loudly. “Makes me feel pretty fucking talented. And you did promise me a reciprocal blowjob, so I have some motivation to get you off fast.” He winked at the older man down on him again, sliding his mouth up and back down the thick, leaking erection under him.

Unable to care about shooting within five minutes like a teenager, Dean gave into the feeling, biting at his already raw lip. He grunted and carefully wound his fingers into Aidan’s hair, breath catching as his balls drew up. “Aid--Aidan!” he screamed out, not caring who heard as he came hard enough to make his arms twitch and his fingernails scrape over the Irishman’s skin, leaving red marks.

Without hesitation, Aidan swallowed the bitter load in his mouth and licked Dean clean before straddling him again to kiss him deeply. It was a short kiss, because he was still short of breath from sucking his… the guy he was fucking off. “You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, nipping at the older man’s neck as he ground down on the tan stomach beneath him and gasping loudly.

Dean could sort of feel Aidan’s cock on his stomach, though not very much. “I think I promised you something in return,” he said with a smirk. “You want to get up here for a quick suck?” Suave and subtle, he was not, but he got what he wanted as Aidan scooted up and grabbed the headboard to lever himself up onto the remaining part of his legs and get his bobbing cock up in front of Dean’s mouth. “Mm, looks good,” he commented cheerfully, straining his neck to suck the head hard. Unlike Aidan, he had trouble relaxing his gag reflex, so he focused on swirling tongue around to catch all the precome.

It was fucking heavenly in Dean’s mouth, Aidan decided, gently moving his hips to help the older man’s lips run over his erection, knowing that the Kiwi would hurt his neck if he had to do it all himself. “Dean,” he gasped softly, head dropping down towards his chest to watch as his cock slid between plump, pink lips. “God, babe,” he whispered, holding all of his weight with his right arm on the headboard so he could cup the other one around the older man’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” he added, running his thumb over the sharp bones under his hand.

With compliments encouraging him, Dean sucked even harder, a hand sliding down Aidan’s back to press gently against the younger man’s entrance, happy at the ensuing groan. To add to the pleasure of a shallower blowjob, Dean began to hum softly around the cock in his mouth, grinning internally when the hand on his face suddenly clenched tightly before relaxing.

“Fucking hell,” Aidan grunted, pushing his hips back to rub his hole against Dean’s hand before pressing forward gently to slide his cock further into the older man’s mouth. “God, Dean,” he added, taking his hand from the blond hair below him to put it back on the headboard; he needed more bracing to keep himself up now that he was quivering a little in pleasure. “Can you… can you touch my balls?”

Dean pulled of and shook his head with an apologetic expression. “Sorry,” he answered, in a voice a little rough from sucking cock. “I don’t have the range of motion and control, so I might push too hard, which would sort of… ruin this,” he said, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the thought of accidentally jamming his knuckles into the younger man’s scrotum. “Is there something else you want?”

Aidan blushed. “Can I maybe, er, come on your face?” he asked, the latter half of the sentence rushed in embarrassment at having asked.

“Like I would say no to that,” Dean scoffed. “Want me to keep blowing and you can pull out, or are you going to jerk off onto me?” he asked, not missing a beat in figuring out the logistics of it. Quadriplegia meant his sex took a little more planning and discussion than it did for able-bodied people, and he had quickly learned that being coy just dragged things out.

Aidan, however, had to take a deep breath to recover from the spark of impossibly high arousal that had resulted from Dean’s casual suggestion. “I’ll jerk off, make it easier on your neck,” he suggested in a voice that was strained with the effort to keep in level. He took his hand off the headboard as the older man relaxed his neck and let himself drop back into the pillows, and began to stroke himself, starting slow but speeding up to a frenzied pace within a minute, gasping and moaning the whole time as he watched Dean’s face. Due to rubbing against the Kiwi while he had been blowing him, it was only a matter of minutes and a couple twisted strokes and thumbing of his slit before he let out a loud cry of “Dean!” and came hard, the translucent white fluid spilling all over the tan face below him as it spurted out of his cock. He jerked himself through the orgasm before letting go of himself and the headboard and toppling over to Dean’s left. “I can’t believe you let me do that,” he panted after a minute, pushing himself up on his arm to kiss the older man, licking the come away from his mouth as he did so.

Dean just smiled when their kiss ended. “Whatever gets you off,” he said happily. “If you could grab a washcloth from the bathroom, though, I’d be grateful,” he added. “I think some got in my hair.”

With an embarrassed little laugh, Aidan got himself into his chair and wheeled to the bathroom, where he found a washcloth and got it damp with warm water before bringing it back. Once on the bed again, he wiped Dean’s face off slowly, then moved on and carefully scrubbed the come out of his hair. “You are way too gorgeous for your own good,” he muttered as he dropped the washcloth onto the floor and snuggled up to Dean’s side. “You coming to the match tomorrow?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dean answered, shifting to wrap an arm around the younger man’s shoulder.


	9. Wheelchair Rugby--First Match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I've been working hard with school and it's also a lot of time to get there and back. For those who are unfamiliar with wheelchair rugby, [here's](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wheelchair_rugby#Rules) a primer from Wikipedia.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

At first, being selected as one of the starting players for the first match had seemed utterly amazing and practically unbelievable. Now, rolling out onto the court in a loud stadium, the faces of the New Zealand team staring at him with determination, Aidan was beginning to think that it was terrifying to be a starter. He was repositioned himself in him chair so that he was more comfortable, trying not to think that at least four people--his parents, his cousin, and Dean--were in the crowd of the stadium just for him.

It turned out that he didn’t actually have time in ruminate in his nervousness, because it was only a minute before the ball was in play, and Aidan had learned within his first few practices that inattention meant getting slammed into a full speed and falling down. Instead, he concentrated on the plays that almost became a rhythm to him: block, grab, throw, move, catch, score, block… He moved with violent precision, keeping the opposing team away from their end zone and pushing his own team closer to theirs. He didn’t try to keep track of the score yet; he used all of his focus to play as hard as he could. He only chanced a look at the clock when New Zealand called a time out.

Huh. Fancy that. Ireland was ahead by four points.

There wasn’t time to dwell on the face that they were currently ahead of a former gold medal team. Their coach spoke quickly and quietly about what they were doing well, and what they needed to improve, and then switched out two players, though Aidan stayed in. It all felt very rushed, and before he knew it, he was back on the floor, wheeling with all his might. He barreled into other players with abandon, going as hard as he could without breaking any rules.

By the end of the first quarter, Ireland was still in the lead.

Aidan panted heavily as he gulped down water, a little relieved when his coach decided to take him out of the game for at least a few minutes. He genuinely loved playing, but he needed a break to stretch his arms and drink some more water. While sitting on the sideline, he didn’t let himself zone out. He watched the other players closely, looking at his team for any improvements they could make and at the New Zealanders for any weaknesses to exploit. It wasn’t an easy task, because everyone moved so quickly across the court; the timing imposed by the rules didn’t leave any time for moving slowly or hesitating. His sharp eyes followed one player for each play, and he began to see patterns of who tended to pass, who was blocked in what way, and who moved slowest.

By the time he was put back in the match at the start of the third quarter, Aidan had some ideas of what to do. Ireland started on defense, and he placed himself in position to intercept, to block, and to slow down the other team to force a turnover. He experience his first fall in the match after five minutes of the quarter, but was perfectly fine, thanks to having been forced to practice falling safely. The match stopped for a minute as he was helped back up, and he gave the thumbs up when asked if he was okay. Possession was given to Ireland, and he started again, pushing himself as hard as possible.

When the third quarter ended, Ireland was still ahead, but only by five points.

“You can’t back down now,” their coach said firmly to his players as they drank water and wiped their sweaty faces with towels. “There are still eight more minutes, and we can’t afford to give up our five point lead. Aidan, you’ve been focusing a lot on defense, but leave that to Kevin for now. I need you putting points on the board, and you’re the best at shoving your way through. You need to get close to the end zone fast, and be ready to receive the ball from either Colin or Sean, understand? Sean, you’ve got the hardest throw, so I want you taking over the long passes, and Colin taking the short ones. That means Sean can get back on defense fastest, so he and Kevin need to be our main defensive line, with Aidan and Colin coming in as needed. Understand?”

The four teammates nodded, heading out onto the court with fierce determination once the whistle was blown.

This was it. Either they could go on and have a shot at a medal, or their dreams could die, all in the next eight minutes. Aidan didn’t want to go home having played just one match, or even go back to the athletes’ village in a few hours having lost. He wanted to be great, to get congratulations that evening rather than pity. His parents hadn’t flown all the way from Ireland to watch him lose at his first match, and he wanted Dean to kiss him with admiration and passion that night, not with consolation and sympathy.

With all that in mind, Aidan scored, again and again. He threw everything he had into those last eight minutes, pushing himself through the blocks from the Kiwis and catching passes from his teammates before turning around to defend themselves against a comeback. When the whistle blew again, there was a minute left, and they were somehow tied.

“One minute. That could be two plays,” their coach said softly, his quiet voice commanding everyone’s attention. “Kevin, I’m switching you out for Jake. I’m focusing all on offense right now. We’ve got possession once we start up again, and we need to score a point right away. After that, all of you are going to defense. Nobody is going to hang back in the key for a quick score if we get the ball back. All we need to do is score and block.”

Aidan’s heart was pounding. He had never felt this stressed before, not when he was taking an exam in school, not when he was playing to qualify for Rio. This was a whole new level of a desperate need to avoid failure. He took a few deep breaths as he headed back onto the court. He would be _fucked_ if he let this be the last time he was on that floor. Chewing his lip to get himself back in the moment, he watched as Colin took the ball from the referee and waited for the whistle. With the shrill noise, he was off down the court, pushing himself hard as Colin moved through the blockers. They didn’t want to score as fast as possible, to be honest. With forty seconds allowed per play and a minute left, they wanted to take up as much time as they could before giving possession up to New Zealand.

When he was by the end zone, Aidan glanced at the clock. Thirty seconds left meant ten seconds to complete their play. “Colin!” he yelled, raising his hand for a catch when the older man threw the pass. He deposited the ball in his lap quickly and put his hand and arm on his wheels to push as hard as he could. Failing to break the line was not an option at that moment, and it was with what might be the last of his strength that he shoved just hard enough to push the opposing player aside and make it into the end zone. He looked up at the clock as he handed the ball off to the ref. Twenty seconds remaining. Fuck. This was it.

He hung back on defense, working on keeping the ball from reaching the other half of the court. If he held them in the backcourt for just twelve seconds, they would forfeit possession and the game would be won. That was doable, he thought. Sadly, though, he had thought wrong, and was pushed into the other half of the court along with the New Zealander holding the ball. His opportunity came after ten seconds, though; forced to bounce or pass the ball or give up possession, his opponent went for a bounce, and Aidan pushed forward to make the ball roll out of the other man’s reach.

With an extended arm, he scooped up the ball and threw it to Jake, who caught it and slammed into the opponent who had been fast enough to get back to the end zone quickly. Jake threw the ball into the air towards Sean, and just when Sean caught it, the whistle blew.

They had goddamn won.

Holy shit.

Aidan pulled Colin into a sweaty hug as the stadium exploded in screams. Years of hard work had just come to fruition, with a chance to continue on to win a medal. He and Colin broke apart to wheel over to their coach, who was nearly sobbing in happiness. Yeah, Aidan decided, this was something he wanted to do again.

* * *

Though he was the celebratory winner, Aidan still went over to Dean’s room that evening. His own room wasn’t quite equipped for the older man, as their disabilities were rather different. When he knocked and entered, he was delighted to see Dean alone, relaxing in his manual chair and texting.

“Aidan!” Dean yelled, looking up and tossing his phone to the side so he could wheel over to the Irishman. “You were so fuckin’ great!” he added, leaning forward to hug the brunet and kiss him on the jaw. “You just… slam your way through everything. What a fucking _bad_ ass!”

Since the match had ended, Aidan hadn’t been able to stop smiling, but now his grin got even wider. He loved the praise Dean was giving him, especially since being in the athletes’ village constantly meant he didn’t really get time to see his family and hear from them. He slid from his chair into Dean’s lap and snuggled against him, head against the older man’s neck. “Thanks, babe,” he mumbled, wrapping an arm around Dean’s neck. “I’m fuckin’ exhausted after that, though.”

Dean grinned, brining his arms up to hold Aidan close. “I’m sure you are. That looked like a killer match, and you only took a few minutes off. No wonder you have such impressive biceps,” he added cheekily, kissing the Irishman’s hair. “Want to get in bed? You’re probably cutting off my circulation.”

“Yeah,” Aidan said cheerfully, letting Dean roll them close to the bed before easily transferring onto the cozy covers. “Do you want some help getting up here?”

“Okay, not to make you get off the bed, but what might be best is if you get back into your chair so that once I get my torso up you can grab my legs and swing them on after me,” Dean explained, watching as Aidan happily slid from the bed onto the floor and pulled himself across the floor to climb up into his wheelchair before heading back over to the bed.

“Ready!” the younger man chirruped, clearly concentrating intensely as Dean pulled his top half onto the bed with obvious effort at the range of motion. Once the New Zealander was mostly out of his chair, Aidan pushed himself forward and carefully picked up the older man’s dangling legs. “Okay, I’ve got you,” he said softly, moving Dean’s legs so they would follow the blond man’s torso and he could get situated on the bed.

The transfer was surprisingly easy, and Dean was soon comfortably set up on the bed with Aidan curled up against his side. The younger man’s curly head rested on Dean’s shoulder, and the remainder of one leg was on top of the Kiwi’s hip. “Am I some sort of awful weirdo if I don’t want to have sex?” the brunet asked, kissing the base of the older man’s neck.

Dean laughed quietly. “You’re allowed to not want sex. You look so tired you’d probably fall asleep on top of me, and, honestly, that’s not something I’d really enjoy.” He curled his arm around Aidan’s back tiredly. “I’m a big fan of snuggling, Aid. Let’s just relax a bit. I have to get up early anyway. I’ve got an event in two days. I need my damn sleep.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Aidan began, “I think it’s time for pajamas and sleep.” He pulled off his own shirt and shorts, leaving him in boxers, and turned to Dean. “Want flannel pants, or just boxers?”

“I’ll go with just boxers. I’ll get my shirt off if you can get my pants?”

Aidan smiled and nodded, letting Dean sit up to work on getting his shirt off as he began to work on the older man’s button and zipper, his practiced hand making quick work of them. It was a little tough to do while the New Zealander squirmed around to take off his shirt, and Aidan ended up waiting until Dean’s shirt was on the ground before wiggling his pants down and off. “Better,” he mumbled over a yawn, pulling a blanket over them and promptly falling asleep.


	10. A Rather Large Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! First off, I'm sorry it's been a while. If you read my other story, you'll know that my medical issues cause apathy (and a majorly increased need for sleep) so it's really hard for me to have the energy and the motivation to write.
> 
> That said, because of the trouble with motivation and inspiration, I could not bring myself to write more of the time in Rio. I'm honestly not sure why. I hope you don't mind a pretty big jump ahead in terms of time, but it was really this or abandoning the work, possibly permanently. I'm really, really sorry if I fucked this up.

Auckland was lonely. It was a shitty city, Dean had decided a few days previously, where he had a boring, empty apartment, and there weren’t any nice Irish wheelchair ruggers to be had.

Yeah, that was the main problem. Dean was in Auckland, and Aidan wasn’t.

The night before he had flown home, Dean had acted like it was all going to be fine. He had honestly _thought_ it was all going to be fine. He had kissed Aidan deeply and they’d had sex twice, then fallen asleep together, snuggled close in Dean’s bed. The next morning, Dean had kissed him goodbye and gotten on his flight home. Two months later, the New Zealander was a big pile of misery. Specifically, he was a big pile of misery looking for a job in London because London was in England and England was next to Ireland.

“Dean, I’m going to be honest,” Jed said as he sat on the couch next to the blond, who was emailing a Paralympic spokeswoman from his laptop. “Moving to the other side of the world for a guy you fucked for a month is pretty fucking nuts.”

After clicking the “send” button on his email, Dean glared half-heartedly at Jed. “I know, and I don’t give a shit,” he said dully. “I’ve heard it from literally everyone I’ve told, but I am unhappy here and I’m willing to try this for him. Anyway, London is cool. I bet I’d have a blast there.”

“Would you have a blast there if Aidan doesn’t drop everything and come over to marry you?” Jed asked shrewdly. “I’m not trying to be mean right now, just realistic. This isn’t a movie, Dean. Dropping everything for somebody you were with for a month and can’t get over doesn’t actually mean he’ll do the same for you. Even if he did, you guys were together in Rio. You didn’t have to actually live together. Can you have a real relationship, where you think about things like if you’ve got enough money to pay the rent and who is cooking dinner and when you’ll get home from work to actually see each other? Relationships aren’t just fucking each other between winning medals and eating meals from a dining hall.”

“I know,” Dean snapped. “Whatever the fuck else you are going to tell me, I already know. But you want to know something? Ever since that fucking car crash, I haven’t gotten to make my own choices. I live here because my family said they needed to check on me. I have the job I have because that’s the only place that would hire me because I have limited productivity in most areas. I eat whatever the hell Chris can help me make, and my schedule literally depends on Chris. If I want to make my own decisions for the first time since I was twenty-one, you can’t stop me, Jed. I’m a grown-ass man, and I will do what I want to, and it turns out that I want to move halfway around the planet in hopes a guy I fell for a few months ago is willing to try to date me for real.”

“Are you doing this to prove you can do something yourself?”

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. God, just shut up and let me email people.”

* * *

Aidan was lying on the couch, sort of watching a movie when his phone buzzed. He grinned when he saw it was an email from Dean. He missed that ridiculous Kiwi more than he cared to admit. He opened the email immediately, eyes lighting up when he read it.

_Hey, so I’m moving to London. Yeah, exciting shit. Know anyone who could help me move in and/or find me a PCA? And we should get together once I’m there. I’ve got this awesome job coordinating Paralympic clinics there and coaching some kids, since I’ve got the five gold medals thing going for me, and they want me to move within the month. Thanks to the God of accessibility and the IPC, they found me an apartment to lease, so I’m good on that front. Any help would be great, plus I miss you and want to hang out._

Okay. Dean was moving to London. Holy fuck. _That doesn’t mean he’s going to fall into your arms_ , Aidan told himself firmly, but it was hard not to celebrate. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he’d been pining after Dean ever since he’d gotten back home. He immediately opened up his messenger app to talk with his English friends in chairs over Facebook. Within a couple hours, he emailed Dean back.

_It’s really great you’re moving to London. I’ll have to start visiting so we can hang out. My friends in the London area gave me a few names and emails to contact about PCAs, and if you give me a date, I’ll pop over from Ireland and help you move, and I’m sure Adam would be up for it. We can do some of the moving and then have pizza and beer night. If I come over from Ireland, though, I’ve got to stay over at least a night… could I steal half of your bed? If you recall, I am great at snuggling :)_

Before he could let himself rethink the last couple sentences, he copied the names and emails of people who could help him find a PCA, pasted them into the email, and hit the send button. After a few minutes, a message from Dean popped up on his Facebook, and he tapped the notification that came up on his phone screen to start a chat.

 **Dean O’Gorman:** id love 4 u 2 help me move in. plus my bed always has space 4 gr8 cuddlers like u ;)

 **Aidan Turner:** Awesome. If you find a PCA, how soon do you’ll think you’ll move?

 **Dean O’Gorman:** as soon as i have one. im going stir crazy here.

 **Aidan Turner:** Great! Let me know as soon as you book your tickets so I can make my arrangements. I’m really excited to see you. I’ve missed toy.

 **Aidan Turner:** *you. Fucking assisted typing.

 **Dean O’Gorman:** yeah i missed u 2. its super late here so im going 2 bed. talk 2 u soon!

Dean closed his laptop, smiling to himself, and put it on his bedside table. Chris had long since come and gone, but in his excitement Dean hadn’t fallen asleep. It was nice to talk to Aidan, even if it was just Facebook chat. Any sort of instant messaging was hard for the New Zealander, as his spastic hands made it hard to type, but it was worth it for a few sentences exchanged with Aidan. He closed his eyes and drifted off happily.

* * *

Aidan was sort of impressed by how little Dean had brought with him from New Zealand. The older man had explained that he had sold most of his stuff since his new apartment was already furnished, but there were only a few boxes of clothes and mobility aids as well as his racing chair to take inside and unpack. The Irishman was happy he was staying for the night; not only did he get a night with Dean, but also the Kiwi’s PCA didn’t start until the next day, so it was good to be around to help if he needed to.

He was sitting at the table with Adam and Dean, eating pizza and drinking beer as a reward for their hard work moving all seven of Dean’s boxes of things. Adam and Dean were talking loudly about a movie Aidan hadn’t seen yet, and he simply propped himself up with his elbows on the table and watched how Dean smiled. He was still sort of zoned out when Adam tapped the table in front of him, clearly waiting for a response.

“Sorry, what?” Aidan mumbled.

“I said I’m going to head out. I’ve gotten roped into going to church with my boyfriend every Sunday, so I need to be up early for that tomorrow. It’s great to see you, though. Dean, call me or text if you need anything, or just want to hang out, okay?” Adam said, gathering up his plate and beer bottle, putting the former in the dishwasher and the latter in the recycling bin. “Bye, guys!”

Aidan and Dean called out their farewells, and then turned toward each other.

“You know, the ferry from Ireland to here and back isn’t that expensive, and my job pays pretty well,” Aidan commented, going for casual but probably failing. “We could get some sort of thing going, like where I come over a couple times a month and we have dinner together or see a movie or… whatever.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a date,” he said slowly, smiling. “If it is, I’d be up for it. Dates are nice. I like dates.” He cleared his throat, suddenly worried he had misinterpreted Aidan’s statement. “I mean, if it’s not a date, that’s cool too, you’re great and we could just hang out and stuff…”

“No, it would be a date,” Aidan mumbled, blushing a bit. “A proper one. We haven’t really had a proper date. We’ve eaten a lot of meals together, spent nights together, watched movies, and fucked, but never gone out to a restaurant and held hands and shit. I think I’d like that, you know?” He rolled over a little closer to Dean and bumped their footplates together, smiling. “We could start tomorrow, since I don’t go back to Ireland til Monday.”

Dean leaned in and kissed Aidan’s nose. “Sounds perfect,” he whispered. “Not to break the mood, but let’s finish unpacking my shit before the whole, uh, bed thing. I’d like to get all my shit out of boxes and, you know, sheets on my bed.” While they had gotten the majority of things put away--Dean’s power chair was in a corner of his bedroom, his clothes were in drawers, and his bathroom was set up--he still needed to unpack the box that he had simply labeled “random shit.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good plan,” Aidan said cheerfully. “I’ll put plates and bottles away if you’ll open the box?” When he got a nod in answer, he dealt with the remnants of dinner. By the time he was finished, Dean had wrestled open the box and was pulling things out and putting them on the coffee table in the sitting room. Aidan simply watched as the older man removed framed pictures of his family and his friends, his mounted gold medals, a stack of books, and a ratty sweatshirt that the Irishman recognized. “That looks very much like the sweatshirt I mysteriously lost in Rio,” he commented.

“Does it? What a strange coincidence,” Dean replied, his face the perfect mask of innocence. “If it happened to be yours, which I’m not saying it is, would you, hypothetically, want it back?”

“Nah, you can have it. I bet you look cute in it,” Aidan said, grinning as Dean put the article of clothing into his lap. “Okay, do you want me to put some of this stuff around the room while you keep unpacking?”

Dean nodded. “Medals and pictures go on the mantel, except the picture of me with my family, I want that on the kitchen counter, and we can take books into the bedroom when we go over there.”

“Your mantel is way more impressive than mine,” Aidan said as he pulled himself up a little to start placing pictures and medals on it. “I’ve just got a lonely little silver hanging there, and you’ve got five motherfucking golds. You’re such a badass, Deano.”

Smiling proudly, Dean just shrugged. “I bet your silver is pretty badass itself, up on your mantel.” He pulled his nice camera out of the box and carefully unwrapped it from the thick rags he had protected it with, and set it on the table. The last thing he pulled out was a framed map of New Zealand; as happy as he was to be in London, with Aidan so close and so happy to date him, New Zealand would always be home. “We can get shit to hang this tomorrow,” he said, putting the picture on the couch for the time being.

Aidan put the last photo from his lap onto the kitchen counter and then turned to Dean. “I could use a shower, after all that moving,” he remarked. “I’m betting you could use one too, babe.”

“Definitely.” Dean led the way to his room, where he immediately stripped off his shirt and threw it into the laundry bag. “Can you help me with my pants so I don’t have to get onto the bed to do them?” he asked hopefully. “I’m jet-lagged and lazy.”

“I don’t think it counts as laziness if it’s from jet-lag,” Aidan pointed out, pulling his shirt off and putting it in the laundry bag with Dean’s before turning back to the older man and unbuttoning his pants. “Are you, like… my boyfriend now?” he asked excitedly as he worked the jeans and boxers slowly down the New Zealander’s legs. “Do I get to tell people I have a boyfriend?”

Dean smiled, pushing his hands against his wheels to help lift his ass and thighs off his seat so Aidan could get his clothes off more easily. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied, sitting down once his pants and underwear were down by his knees. “I’d say we should go on a date first, but we can count Rio as at least three dates, right?”

“Sure,” Aidan agreed, getting Dean’s legs free from the confines of his clothes, which were expertly tossed into the bag, quickly followed by his own. Both naked, they rolled into the bathroom. “Okay, we’ve got this. I’ve even done this before and everything. What are you thinking?”

“I’ll pull myself up with the grab bar, you shove my legs onto the bench, and I’ll scoot over to make room for you,” Dean instructed, efficiently moving himself into the optimum position.

Unlike their first time trying this, there was no awkwardness. They didn’t have to stop to call anyone for help, or even stop to readjust. Once Dean pulled his upper body up, Aidan quickly picked up his legs and moved them onto the bench, making sure the older man had his ass situated so as to avoid a fall before giving him the okay to put his weight down.

Dean grinned. “Perfect!” he said happily, slowly pushing his body over to make room for the Irishman. Once they were both in the shower, with warm water pouring over them, Dean kissed Aidan’s jaw. “I’m really glad I moved.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean types with a lot of text speak sort of stuff because it's really slow and difficult to type with his hands. Only one is open enough to type, and that hand is still stiff. The text speak is because it's easier and faster to type fewer letters.


	11. Jet Lag = Early Mornings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while! I'm doing a ton of work right now, and I've upped my training schedule, so I'm a little hectic. I'm trying to get writing back into my routine though, so I'm hoping that I'll be able to update at a more normal pace.

It wasn’t even five in the morning when Dean woke up, his body utterly confused about what time it was. After they had finished showering, Aidan had practically poured the older man into his wheelchair and then into bed, since Dean had been too tired to move very much. He was currently, however, far too awake for the early hour, and definitely too awake to ignore the fact that he was naked in bed with a similarly naked Aidan. God, the younger man looked so beautiful, just shown by the dim glow of streetlights shining through the thin curtains on the window. He must have gotten overheated as he slept, because all the blankets had somehow gotten down below his legs, leaving him utterly exposed to Dean.

In his defense, Dean had been without sex and without Aidan for three months. Any man would have the same reaction, he reasoned as he reached down with his right hand and began to palm himself carefully, not wanting to risk hurting himself with larger movements, since he didn’t have complete motor control. This wasn’t really the best time, though, since it was 4:58 in the morning and Aidan was still asleep. Still, it wouldn’t be that wrong to snuggle up, as long as he didn’t actually rub himself all sexually over the Irishman or anything. Slowly and carefully, Dean pulled himself over maybe ten centimeters and pressed himself against Aidan’s warm body, resting his head on the younger man’s neck and letting the rest of his body relax to touch Aidan’s.

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a tired snort above him. “Seriously? You woke up with a boner at five?” Aidan asked, voice rough from sleep. “You’re ridiculous,” he added fondly.

“Jet lag,” Dean reminded the younger man. “It’s five in the evening in Auckland, and I’ve got my naked boyfriend in my bed, and I fell asleep pre-sex last night, so, yeah, boner.” He shrugged against Aidan. “Go back to sleep, babe. You aren’t fucked up from jet lag, so you get to choose when we actually get up.”

Aidan gently pushed Dean off of his chest so that the older man ended up on his back. “Oh no, Mr. O’Gorman, you can’t poke me awake with a boner and then make me go back to sleep,” he teased, rolling on top of the blond and grinding down gently. “Especially not after three months,” he added, leaning down to kiss at Dean’s neck. “Anyway,” he continued between kisses and nips at golden skin, “if we don’t do something, your cock will just poke me awake again as soon as I fall asleep.”

With a gasp, Dean wrapped his arms around Aidan’s waist. “Good point,” he whispered, running his hands over the younger man’s back. “What, ah, what exactly are you thinking we should do to prevent further poking you awake?” he asked hopefully.

“Depends on if you have any condoms and lube in this apartment yet,” Aidan answered, rubbing his growing cock against Dean’s stomach almost lazily. “See, if you have condoms and lube,” he drawled slowly, savoring in the way the older man stared at him in rapt attention so as not to miss a single word, “I’d ride the hell out of you,” he finished, and then paused thoughtfully. “You know, if you have lube and condoms, we could experiment a bit, try me, uh, up, um…”

Dean grinned as Aidan blushed. “You’re allowed to want to top,” he informed the Irishman cheerfully. “I don’t have condoms and lube, though, so it’s not important right now. We’ll figure that out tomorrow. All I care about at the moment is what we’re doing right now.”

Aidan relaxed, awkwardness subsiding as he got a positive reaction to his desire to experiment, but also got out of experimenting right at that moment. “Well,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss at Dean’s neck between words. “How about we get me off real fast, and then I take my time with you?” He bit down at the soft skin beneath his teeth as a plan formed in his mind. “Even without lube, I could still, you know, finger you, right?” he asked shyly.

It wasn’t something Dean had expected to hear, but that didn’t mean he was opposed to it. “Yeah,” he answered simply. “Just be really careful, ‘cause I won’t feel pain if you fuck it up.”

With a smirk, Aidan sat up on Dean’s stomach and rolled his eyes. “I know what I’m doing around a man’s arse, Deano, don’t you worry,” he assured his boyfriend, licking his own hand before reaching down to his cock, gasping as he began to stroke.

After a moment’s consideration of how the hell he was supposed to participate in this part, Dean reached his hands up, one moving to massage Aidan’s upper thigh as the other snaked around the younger man’s body to rest on his ass. “Fuck, you’re attractive,” he muttered, really wishing he had packed condoms and lube because all he wanted at that moment was to fuck Aidan until they were too exhausted to move. “Missed this,” he added, smiling up at the Irishman as he groaned in pleasure. “I can’t believe I forgot how hot you sound.”

Aidan grinned down at Dean before he nearly choked on air as a twisted stroke. “You know, I do this whole jerking off thing at home, like, all the time, but it’s a million times better like this,” he grunted.

Dean snorted. “You do this, like, all the time?” he teased, sliding his hand from Aidan’s upper thigh in just a couple inches to gently press at the base of his erection, delighting in the loud moan this pulled from the brunet.

“Yeah, like you don’t,” Aidan retorted, but his voice was breathy as he continued to jerk himself, speeding up his strokes as he got closer and shifting his position so a little more of Dean’s hand was touching his cock. “Fuck, Dean,” he gasped, arching his back. His ass moved just a couple inches back and came in contact with the older man’s erection. Aidan shivered, letting it slip closer. When the head brushed against his hole, it was over.

Aidan grunted, “Fuck, Dean!” loudly as he began to come, translucent white fluid falling onto his boyfriend’s taught, sun kissed stomach as he stroked himself through his orgasm. By the time he finished, he was panting as he let himself slide from the New Zealander’s body onto the bed. “Okay, back to sleep,” he joked breathlessly, laughing softly when Dean let out a rather unhappy noise.

“Swear to God, Aidan, you leave me hanging, I won’t buy condoms and lube for months,” he threatened, nudging Aidan’s side with his hand. “Anyway, you sounded so excited, babe,” he wheedled. “You know, it’s not every day that I let a man finger me. You’re the first one to get the privilege in, like, three years, so you’d better take advantage of it.”

Aidan stopped laughing, utterly surprised. “You haven’t had anything up the arse in three years?” he asked, utterly dumbfounded. “Seriously, Dean, if it isn’t your thing, we don’t have to do it. I just thought it would be fun to try, you know?”

Dean shrugged. “I mean, it’s been three years, I’m not really positive how I feel about it. We might as well try. Point is,” he continued, nodding firmly, “I have a boner that you promised to put your mouth on, and your mouth isn’t exactly on it right now.”

This, Aidan reflected, was part of what he had missed. He and Dean… they hadn’t just been fucking in Rio. They had been so relaxed and happy, with smiles and jokes all the time, in bed and out. “I’m so fucking glad you moved,” he whispered fervently as he scooted himself between Dean’s leg’s, wetting his fingers with spit before leaning down and suckling gently at the head of the older man’s shiny, red erection.

“Yeah,” Dean groaned, arms jerking in towards his body a little in pleasure. To say that it had been too long felt like an understatement at this point. Before, three months had been annoying, but with Aidan, it had been eternity. “Tell me when you start to finger me, okay?” he asked softly, knowing he wouldn’t feel it properly. Luckily, he knew from some long-ago experimentation that he did have a decent amount of prostate sensation, but he’d like to know if a finger was inside him before that point.

Aidan pulled up off Dean’s cock for a moment. “I’m going to start now, okay?” Wetting his fingers once more, he carefully wormed one inside his boyfriend’s body, cock feebly twitching at the tightness and the thought of eventually actually fucking Dean. As he slowly explored with that one finger, he once again took the blond in his mouth, humming around the rigid flesh and delighting in the older man’s resulting moan.

Dean wondered for a moment how many fingers Aidan had pressed inside of him, but his brain practically short circuited when, without any warning, his cock was suddenly hitting the back of his boyfriend’s throat. “Fuck!” he grunted, fingers twisting in the sheets, his pleasure making his spastic muscles contract even more than usual. “Oh, God, Aid… yes…” he moaned, forcing himself to peel his eyes open and look down. When the younger man made eye contact and gave him a cheerful little wink, Dean felt like he was going to die of arousal. He was panting, chewing his lip, and just barely keeping up when…

“Holy… Aidan!”

That noise would have definitely gotten Aidan off if he hadn’t done so just a few minutes previously. He began to rub harder against Dean’s prostate, pleased to see that the older man could _definitely_ feel that. He sucked his boyfriend’s erection down as far as he could, tongue dancing along the length of the thick vein underneath, and really pressed on Dean’s prostate, starting up a rhythm.

Fuck, Dean like that rhythm. He was no longer simply okay with the idea of Aidan attempting to top; he was going to buy lube as soon as a shop was open and get the brunet inside of him the first chance he got. The Irishman’s finger pressed against him again and again, and Dean struggled to get enough air in to really speak. “I’m going to… going… oh, fuck, Aid… Ai--!” Unable to stop himself, he cut off his own sentence with a scream as he came into Aidan’s mouth, harder than he had in _years_. After a few moments of blinding pleasure combined with almost agonizingly tight muscles, Dean’s body relaxed and fell limply further back into the pillows. “You’re going to fuck me tonight,” he gasped between breaths. “I’ll load myself up with coffee so I’ll stay awake, because, holy fuck, that was… wow. Fingers are really great,” he finished placidly.

Aidan giggled as he slid out from between Dean’s legs and placed them a little closer together. “I’m going to be horny all day, knowing that,” he informed the older man. “Let’s keep the meeting with your new PCA short, hm? I think today should really be an ‘us time’ day.”

“Agreed,” Dean said, pushing himself up into a sitting position, even as Aidan curled back into the pillows. “You going back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Aidan muttered, letting his eyes drift shut. “Please don’t wake me up for at least two hours. Deal?”

Dean just turned on a dim lamp and picked up his book, still smiling lazily to himself.


	12. Sunday Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I updated fast. I doubt this will happen again, I just got really excited about Dean's PCA.

Dean was almost finished with his book when he felt Aidan snuggle up into his side. “Good morning,” he said softly, noting the page number before putting the book on the bedside table so he could put his arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. “My new PCA texted, and he’s going to come by in an hour,” he continued, rubbing the younger man’s back gently. “I’m going to make sure he’s comfortable with transfers and dressing and that sort of thing, so it’ll probably be a couple hours.”

Aidan opened his eyes and nodded, stifling a yawn as he did so. “Do you want me to stay out of the way, or be around with all that?” he asked, unsure what was the proper protocol in this situation.

“Whatever you want. It might be easiest if you just hang out in the living room or something, since we’re going to mostly be in the bedroom and bathroom, and maybe the kitchen,” Dean answered simply. “You can observe the crash course training if you want, but, I mean, you’re going to be watching some guy undress me and put me in the shower and on the toilet, so I don’t know if that’s boyfriend time.”

“Fair point,” Aidan replied, nodding. I’ll make a grocery list because we need to do that this afternoon anyway.” He regretfully pushed himself into a sitting position; as much as he would like to snuggle some more, if this PCA was going to be there in an hour, they needed to get up and start getting ready. “Power or manual today?” he asked as he climbed over Dean so he could get into his own chair.

Dean considered for a moment. “I mostly use manual at home, so I’ll use that while the PCA is here, but I’ll switch to the power chair for grocery shopping,” he decided, watching as Aidan got his chair in the optimal position for transferring from the bed. Despite their months apart, it was pretty easy for the two of them to get Dean into his chair, and he gave his boyfriend a little kiss before adjusting himself to be more comfortable. “Okay, bathroom, then clothes?” he suggested.

“Sure,” Aidan replied. He followed Dean the few meters into the white tiled bathroom before parking himself next to the sink to wait for instructions.

“Right. How about I piss first, then wash my hands and you can help me with teeth, and I’ll leave you in peace,” Dean said. While he was absolutely comfortable with and used to someone else being with him in the bathroom during basically all bodily functions, he knew Aidan wasn’t and would want some space.

Aidan nodded. “I’ll help you onto the toilet and go get dressed,” he agreed, “and I’ll be back to help you off and do the whole toothbrush shit.” He carefully moved to face the toilet from right in front of it, and gripped Dean’s thighs tightly to help slide him over onto the seat. Once the older man was comfortable and safely on, Aidan rolled out of the bathroom and over to his duffel bag in the bedroom. He dug out a jumper and a pair of jeans, cut off so only a couple inches had to get tucked under the remaining part of his legs, and slowly got dressed.

In the bathroom, Dean rolled his eyes at how long Aidan was taking. Yeah, he knew that the whole ‘being in the room while your boyfriend pees’ was a new thing to the younger man, but taking ages to put on clothes to give Dean extra time was unnecessary, and a tiny bit ridiculous. He smiled brightly when the Irishman came back in, and soon Aidan was guiding his hand gently to help him brush his teeth without accidentally stabbing himself in the cheek (it had only happened a couple times, but it had been awful enough that he took extra care to avoid a repeat incident).

Despite having an hour to get ready, between the extra time Dean took to do things and a few minutes lost to kissing and grinning at each other like love-struck teenagers, they were barely presentable by the time the doorbell rang. Aidan moved to lie down on the couch, book on his lap as he rolled to the living room, and Dean answered the door to see a guy with dark hair waiting outside. “Hi!” he said cheerfully, moving aside to let the young man inside.

“Hey, I’m Luke,” the man said warmly, extending a hand, which Dean shook as best as he could. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry if I interrupted your morning or anything like that,” he added quickly.

Dean shook his head. “No, you’re fine,” he assured the slim brunet as he closed the door behind him. “I was thinking we could start by making sure you’re comfortable with the main transfers and shit, then work out a good schedule. Does that sound okay with you?”

Luke nodded. “Sure. Where do you want to work on transfers?” he asked.

“Bedroom and bathroom, since that’s where most of them will be. First, though,” Dean said, leading the way to the kitchen and sitting area, “here’s the kitchen, and there’s my boyfriend, Aidan. Aid, this is Luke,” he added, making sure that the Irishman looked up.

“Hey,” Aidan said, with a nod of greeting.

“Hi,” Luke replied. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Before there could be any awkward silence or, worse, forced conversations, Dean took Luke to the bedroom to work on transfers. Thankfully, the Welshman was both experienced and strong, and comfortably got Dean from his chair to his bed, back down, into the shower, onto the toilet, and undressed and dressed again with very few difficulties. It was only an hour before they moved to the sitting area to write down a schedule, Aidan vaguely listening in from his spot on the couch.

“Do you want me to come at seven, or earlier?” Luke asked as Dean got out a pen and a pad of paper and handed it to him--even with hours of OT, the New Zealander’s handwriting remained utterly atrocious.

Dean snorted. “Let’s say 7:30,” he answered, but looked a little guilty. “You might have to drag me a little more than if you came at 8:30, but I need to be at work by nine and it takes me a while to get ready,” he answered. “At night, I want you to be able to be out the door by nine, at the latest, because I don’t want to completely kill your social life. How will you get dates if I monopolize your life?”

Luke grinned. “See, I already like you, because you are clearly concerned with the important things, like dates. Okay, out by nine should be fine, as long as it isn’t totally fucking up your schedule to do that.”

“Nah, if it was, I would have gone for live-in care,” Dean replied. “And, of course, you get a good few hours off each day when I’m at the office rather than at practice, so hopefully you can get shit done then. I know we didn’t discuss weekends, but if you want weekends off, Aid’s planning to come over here at least every other week, I think--“

“Yeah,” Aidan called out from the couch.

“So you can leave early on Fridays and not get back til Sunday evening, if you want,” Dean finished. “I mean, I understand if you need all the hours, since there wasn’t any discussion about whether or not you’d do weekends, but that’s totally an option.”

“That would be great, actually,” Luke replied. “I’d like that free time, honestly, and it sounds like I’d still probably do a weekend or two a month, so I wouldn’t be cutting down on too many hours, really.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, especially since I usually need way fewer hours on weekends. If I’m going out with friends, I usually have someone who can help me, and otherwise you can come in and help me out in the morning, and maybe mid-afternoon, and then around nine for bed. I know it’s weird timing, but you’d be out by ten at the latest, so you could still go to clubs or whatever.”

“If you know of any really great gay clubs, by the way, we’re open to suggestions,” Aidan said loudly. “I don’t know if you’re a gay club kind of man, but if you have ideas… also, if you are that sort of man, but aren’t seeing anyone, we could definitely be wingmen and find you a date.”

“Aidan, shut it,” Dean said, laughing. “Though, if that is something you would be open to, you could count it as hours and get paid for us to push you at cute boys, so, really, it would be a win-win scenario for you.”

Luke smirked. “I might take you up on that, you know,” he said conversationally, copying down the weekday and weekend hours, as well as his mobile number, onto a second sheet of paper. He put the first sheet into his pocket and left the second for Dean. “Okay, this looks great. Do you need me to come tonight, or will Aidan still be around?”

“He’ll still be here, but want to come around five-thirty anyway?” Dean suggested. “You can get a bit of a handle on how much help I’ll need to make dinner, we’ll hang out a bit, and you can help me get ready for bed super early just to try it with Aidan around to help with anything.”

“Great,” Luke said, standing up. “It was nice to meet you guys, and I’ll see you later!”

Once Dean had let Luke out, he rolled back to the sitting room. “He’s nice,” he commented cheerfully as Aidan got back into his chair. “Cute, too. He kind of looks like that British wheelchair rugby coach.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Aidan agreed, following Dean into the bedroom and helping him into his power chair. “Cute brown-haired Brits, the both of them. Also, judging from Luke’s comfort with the idea of us as gay bar wingmen, they are both gay as shit.”

“Between you, Luke, and Adam, I’m in a gay bubble here,” Dean reflected. “Maybe I’ll eventually make a straight friend.”

“No rush, though,” Aidan said cheerfully. “C’mon, grocery store time!”

Dean was lucky to live just a few blocks from a grocery store; it was an extremely easy distance in his power chair, and would even be feasible in his manual, if he wanted to. Equipped with a handy list from Aidan, they set about getting the basics, a basket in Dean’s lap.

The first thing Dean needed was bread. Sandwiches were relatively simple, and he didn’t require any help to make them, so they were an important staple of his diet. He picked up a loaf of whole wheat bread, and then moved to the deli area for a couple sandwich meat options and pre-sliced cheese. A few aisles later, he smiled as he watched a child in a stroller stare in awe as Aidan pulled himself up to reach a jar of peanut butter. While Dean hated being stared at--and, by association, hated his boyfriend being stared at--he didn’t mind it so much with children. After all, little kids were just curious, not judgmental or pitying like adults. Aidan didn’t seem to mind either, because after putting the jar in the basket in Dean’s lap, he winked at the child and popped a wheelie, much to her excitement.

“You like kids?” Dean asked as the continued up the aisle.

“Yeah. They’re cute, and they think my wheelchair is cool, not a tragedy or anything like that,” Aidan answered. “Do you like them?”

Dean nodded. “Yep. Do you have any pictures from when you were little? Tiny kids in wheelchairs are my kryptonite, Aid. I want to adopt all of them because they are so cute when they are popping wheelies and shit.”

“I’ll find a couple photos to bring when I visit next,” Aidan promised. “Okay, only things left on the list are vegetables, butter, and milk,” he announced after looking at their basket, which had condoms, lube, pasta, bread, cheese, sliced meats, and cereal. As much as Dean would have liked to bought more, especially fresher ingredients, the fact was that between rent, Luke’s salary, PT bills, owning three wheelchairs and knowing he had to save money in case of a medical emergency, funds tended to be tighter in his life, even with health insurance. His new job was going to pay more than his old one, but he needed a good cushion of emergency money before he felt comfortable spending more at the grocery store.

Aidan knew that experience, and had kept the grocery list vague for that reason. Before he had scored his current job at the bank, he had been through the difficulties of budgeting. Wheelchairs were expensive, and so were first-floor apartments, and putting hand controls in a car, but he had never had to pay a PCA like Dean did. His bank job was a godsend, because not only did he have enough money to pay his bills and travel as an athlete, but he also would be able to pop over to London to see Dean frequently.

Within half an hour, they were unpacking the grocery bags in the apartment, distributing things between the refrigerator and the counter. Once everything was out of the grocery bag, Dean realized that it wasn’t exactly a week’s worth of food, especially not for an athlete. Though the peanut butter would last a while, a loaf of bread would go quickly with a couple of sandwiches a day, and a box of pasta only made two or three servings. He sighed internally and sat himself up a bit straighter. He needed to stop worrying; he had the money to buy extra groceries if he needed to, and after his first couple paychecks he could start buying more each week and not freak out so much.

“Okay, this is going to seem like a super-late question, since we’ve been together for a while and all, but there was never a real reason to bring it up in Rio,” Aidan began as they wheeled toward the bedroom to put the condoms and lube away. “Do you drink? I mean, you told a couple stories about being drunk, but they were pre-injury, and I don’t know if that would affect it at all…”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, it does feel pretty late to be asking that, but, yeah, I drink,” he answered. “Not heavily, because coordination is already pretty tough without adding in getting drunk, but a little.” He shrugged, a little more serious than he had been just seconds earlier. “I like being sober enough to make sure nobody who actually got drunk is driving,” he explained quietly.

Aidan nodded in understanding. “Got it,” he said simply. “I was just wondering, since it would be fun to go to a club to dance a bit, and clubs usually have alcohol.” After putting the box of condoms and the tube of lube into the drawer of the bedside table, he hopped up on the bed and smiled at Dean, who was closer to the bed’s height than usual, since his power chair was pretty large. “Making sure people aren’t driving drunk is important,” he added seriously. “I mean, a drunk driver nearly killed you a few years ago, and my parents are really intense about it too. I was in a coma for a couple weeks and got three amputations because some drunk shithead in Dublin decided to get behind the wheel. Spending a few weeks thinking your five-year-old may die tends to make people intense about things.”

“Yeah, I can see how that would happen.”

“They were really, ah, _protective_ when I got old enough to drink.” Aidan sighed, and then shook his head to clear out the memories of how clearly upset and terrified his parents were when he was old enough to go to parties. “Now,” he said, changing the subject efficiently, “condoms and lube have been bought, we’ve got a few hours til Luke comes over… I seem to remember an idea from early this morning of what we would do with condoms and lube.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at his boyfriend. “Want to get on the bed and fool around a bit?”

Dean smiled widely. “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, that's Luke Evans, just popping up as a cool PCA.
> 
> Also, I honestly gave Aidan the job at the bank because I think bankers make a pretty good amount of money. If the don't, let's just all assume he embezzles from them.


	13. Sunday Afternoon

Aidan waiting until Dean was fully situated on the bed, naked and smiling alluringly, before he stripped off his own clothes and transferred up onto the bed to lie next to him. “Hey,” he whispered, kissing the older man’s ear softly. “So, I’m assuming the correct way to do this is basic missionary? I mean, gay missionary? Is there a word for that?”

“I think it’s still just called missionary position,” Dean answered calmly, seeing through Aidan’s cheerful chatter to the nervousness that was clearly lurking. “That’s the way to go. You’ve got to be really careful, and take way longer than is probably necessary opening me up, because I will be _fucked_ if I have some sort of anal bleeding when my PCA does my bedtime routine with me for the first time.”

Unable to keep the quip inside, Aidan blurted out, “The entire plan is for you to be fucked.” He then kissed Dean’s neck in apology for the awful joke. “I’ll go slow and easy, I promise. It’ll be like the morning, just… more. There will be more opening, more stretching, and then more dick.”

“Are you trying to ruin the mood before we even kiss, or are you suddenly really bad at talking in bed?” Dean asked, laughing as he turned his head to press his lips against Aidan’s. “Look, as long as you’re careful and make sure I’m really stretched out enough, it’s going to be perfect. I mean, I’m not like guys who have all their feeling down there, it still takes work on my dick to get me off, but it’s still nice. Whatever, let’s just start.”

Aidan smiled and scooted over to maneuver himself between Dean’s legs, which he carefully moved apart from each other. “Righto,” he said brightly, picking up the lube from next to his boyfriend and squeezing some onto his fingers. “I’m going to start,” he warned Dean softly, circling a finger around the older man’s entrance before slowly pressing it in. “That’s one.”

“You don’t have to narrate every movement,” Dean told him. “All I need is for you to tell me when you think I’m opened enough and let me know how many fingers are there then, okay?” He reached up and tapped Aidan on the shoulder slowly. “Come here.”

Aidan grinned and continued wiggling his finger inside his boyfriend as he draped his body over the one under him, bringing his lips against Dean’s. He kissed the New Zealander deeply, using his free arm to keep his body up, though he let his hips grind down a little. He knew that direct stimulation was best for getting and keeping Dean physically aroused, so he kept his hips moving in little circles even as he carefully slipped another finger inside. “You’re so gorgeous under me,” he whispered during a break for breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Dean mumbled, straining his neck up to initiate more kissing. “Can’t believe I’m gonna do this after three years,” he added breathlessly. “You’re the perfect guy for me to do this with…”

“I like to think so,” Aidan replied, ignoring Dean’s hopeful lips in order to press kisses down his neck. “I’m going to put a third finger in, and I think once you’re stretched out enough for one more, we can do this, okay?”

Dean nodded. “Cool,” he said simply. “Are you planning to touch my prostate any time soon? This is a little unexplosive.” He grimaced. “Alright, that sounded awful, it’s not bad, ‘cause my dick is feeling great, but, like, the point of bottoming is the prostate, right?”

With a laugh, Aidan began to shift his fingers inside the older man. “I can make it happen,” he assured him. It only took a couple moments before he had Dean writhing under him and gasping in pleasure. “There we go,” he said cheerfully, his three fingers spreading even as the middle finger rubbed against his prostate. “Um, how do you like it? The main event, I mean,” he added quickly.

“It’s been a long-ass time, Aid,” Dean pointed out, choking back a moan as the Irishman rubbed his prostate even harder. “I can’t really remember. Before my injury, I liked it hard and fast, but I haven’t really done it much since.” He shrugged his shoulders stiffly, his arms sore and a little more spastic from moving in the previous night. “Just try what you like the most, and I’ll tell you if it feels good,” he suggested.

Aidan breathed out slowly. “Okay. You’re stretched. I’ve got three fingers inside you, and they’re spread pretty far apart. Does that sound far enough, or do you want me to do a bit more?”

“Go for it,” Dean said calmly. Aidan was obviously a little anxious, but he wasn’t as worried. If it didn’t work out great, they didn’t have to do it again

With hands that were only slightly shaky, Aidan tore open the condom wrapper and rolled the latex down over his erection. “Oh, man, we’re actually going to do this,” he muttered, mostly to himself, before positioning himself comfortably. “Are your legs okay, or should I move ‘em?”

“Oh, my God, if you don’t start soon, I am going to scream,” Dean growled, getting impatient. “You promised me that you would top, and now you’re going to chicken out?”

Aidan rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss Dean as he slowly pressed his cock inside. “Holy shit,” he gasped, missing Dean’s mouth entirely as the pleasure made him drop his head to the smaller man’s shoulder. “You are literally the tightest man I have ever been in. I can’t… I…”

Dean grinned. “Spasticity,” he explained. “My muscles are hypertonic, so of course I am tight as fuck. And whatever you were saying can’t about, you’d better not be talking about lasting, because I want this to last at least a little while.” He put his hand on the small of Aidan’s back. “If you aren’t going to last, you might as well make it count,” he said, pressing down to try to push his boyfriend deeper inside.

“Christ!” Aidan grunted, thrusting in along with Dean’s push before setting a fast rhythm, biting down on the older man’s shoulder. “Dean, babe,” he moaned, shifting his hips and waiting to hear some feedback.

“That’s good,” Dean panted, head tipping back into the pillow. “Good pace. A better angle would help. I’m only feeling it in how my upper body is moving, not anything inside.” He moaned wordlessly; even though he wasn’t getting any internal pleasure, Aidan’s stomach was rubbing against his cock with every thrust. “Fuck,” he swore softly as the hair on his boyfriend’s torso scratched across him in a weird sensation between pain and pleasure. It was exciting to Dean, who could barely feel pain on most of his body, and he arched into it as well as he could.

“Yeah,” Aidan groaned, moving his hips up just a little before hearing Dean cry out in ecstasy. “Yeah, Dean, fuck,” he ground out as the body around him tightened to an almost unbearable level. “I love you so fucking much. So fucking much.”

Dean twisted his head in pleasure, using all he could of his upper body to thrust back towards Aidan. “I love you… I… God, Aid,” he hissed, fingernails digging into the younger man’s back. “Feels so good.”

It took a little reposition and a lot of effort, but Aidan pushed and pulled his body so that he could get a hand between himself and Dean and begin to pump the New Zealander’s erection. He started off slowly but it only took a couple seconds to match the pace of his hips. “This gonna get you off, or you need more?” he asked between shallow, rough breaths.

“I’m about to come,” Dean answered quickly, voice tight and eyes shut. “I love… I’m… fuck!” He desperately wanted to say something sweet and beautiful, professing his deep love for Aidan, but it turned out that he was less than poetic when orgasming. All that came out was a few swear words followed by a garbled moan.

“God, Dean,” Aidan breathed, chewing his lip as he continued to thrust just a couple more times before coming into the condom with a grunt. Panting, he collapsed onto Dean’s chest, pressing kisses against whatever skin was near his mouth. “That was amazing,” he mumbled, blinking hard to keep himself awake. “What time is it?” he asked, too lazy to look at the clock.

Dean turned his head a little to see the clock. “It’s twelve-thirty,” he said tiredly. “No wonder I’m so hungry. We didn’t even have breakfast. Let’s… let’s clean up and have some lunch, and I need to nap before Luke comes over to help with dinner and bed.”

“Sure,” Aidan murmured, clearly not terribly alert. “Cleaning up. Great. Sounds good. I should get a washcloth, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

At five-thirty on the dot, the doorbell rang. Aidan convinced Dean to stay on the couch with the crappy reality television reruns while he transferred to his chair to get the door.

“Hey, Luke,” he said cheerfully, letting the man in. “Dean just woke up from a jet lag nap, and he’s currently discovering _Geordie Shore_ , which… I’m pretty sure he’s only watching because he’s sleep-deprived to the point of acting kind of drunk. Whatever. Come on.” He led the way to the living room.

Dean glanced up. “I heard that. I’m only watching this ‘cause I’m too lazy to get the remote. These people are terrifying. Um, Luke, I was thinking you and I could make dinner while Aidan dicks around, so you can get used to what kind of help I need. Then we can do my full nighttime routine. It’ll be a little earlier than usual, but I want you to try it tonight while Aidan’s around, just in case he needs to show you anything. Or wants to do the macho boyfriend thing and posture around and warn you off his man.”

“You’re really attractive and all, Dean, but no worries. I’ll somehow restrain myself from hitting on you,” Luke said drily. “Pasta sounds great, though. Is your night routine just bathroom, teeth, and pajamas?”

“No, it’s bathroom, shower, teeth, pajamas, physical therapy range-of-motion stuff, and then bed,” Dean explained. “We’ll walk through it tonight slowly. I know we talked about it some this morning, but that was more transfers and stuff. We can do preferences and that sort of thing now.”

Luke nodded along with Dean’s words. “That’s probably a good plan. I’m sure you’re a good self-advocate by now, but just in case you’re a little awkward telling me if I’m doing something a little off or uncomfortable, Aidan can tell me. So, pasta?”

Knowing it was time for Dean and Luke to start dinner, and to start it alone, Aidan moved himself over to the couch and picked up the remote to flip through channels. He settled on a nature documentary as Luke helped Dean off the couch and into his power chair. Once Dean was moving towards the kitchen, Aidan scooted himself out of his chair and onto the couch to lie down and watch the cheetahs.

In the kitchen, things were a little cramped. While Dean’s power chair got him closer to the height of the counter, it also took up more room. It was a bit of a struggle to get the butter out of the refrigerator and the peas out of the freezer, but Dean managed. “Okay, Luke, I need you to get a pot out of the cabinet up there, and fill it up with water from the sink and then we’ll put it on the stove to get it boiling,” Dean instructed. “With cooking on the stove, I basically just direct, since I could burn myself really easily.”

Nodding, Luke followed directions easily, getting the water started on the stove before leaning against the counter and looking at Dean. “Do we need to do anything while waiting for the water?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nah, we can relax. So, uh, do you have any questions left over from this morning or anything?” he asked, not really sure what to talk about. “I guess we could do small talk, but we don’t know each other yet, so I’m not sure what we should talk about…” he trailed off awkwardly.

“How did you meet Aidan?” Luke asked. He didn’t know anything about Dean’s life at that point except that he was dating the young Irishman, so that was about the only jumping off point he had.

“Rio,” Dean replied simply. “We hung out a bit in the common areas before the games started and then, you know, got together through the rest of the time there. After a few months back in New Zealand, I moved over here.”

Luke nodded slowly. “I might have, uh, Googled you once I got the job with you, so I know that you’ve got five golds. That’s… wow.”

“He’s a pretty big badass,” Aidan agreed from the couch. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m supposed to be part of the conversation. I just felt like adding my opinion. Most of the Paralympic world thinks Dean is the best male T-51 sprinter. The best ever, in all of history,” he clarified. “I think he’s the best wheelchair racer ever, but I’m a little biased.”

Dean snorted. “When discussing the best wheelchair racers, Aidan always seems to forget that Tatyana McFadden exists,” he informed Luke. “Aidan was a part of the first Irish wheelchair rugby team to make it to the Paralympics, and they won silver.” He blushed, realizing how they were being obnoxious. “Okay, this is overly couple-y, isn’t it? Shit, that’s got to be annoying. Uh, have you always been a PCA?” he asked.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Luke answered. “I was really into theater, but I had a bit of a road-to-Damascus moment after acting for a few years where I realized that I didn’t want to do it forever, so I decided to figure out a job while looking for a real career. I got a quick job as a PCA for a guy right after a spinal cord injury, and I really liked the work. So once he got more independent, I started working for another man, and then a woman, and she just moved when you contacted me about working for you, so here I am.”

“Well, I’m glad you are. I was worried about moving without a PCA lined up, and you seem really great.”

Aidan cleared his throat. “Okay, this is going to be so rude, and Dean is going to bitch at me about later, I bet, but you said you’d be up for us wingman-ing you at a gay club, so are you, you know, gay?”

“It’s not rude,” Luke assured both of the men. “And, Dean, no need to bitch at Aidan, it’s a fine question. Yeah, I’m gay. Well, mostly. I was in a really serious relationship with a woman for a while, but I’m still gay. She was wonderful, an exception, but I think she was the only one. Now that we’ve broken up, I doubt I’m going to date a woman again.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “I moved to the UK and literally every person I have spent time with since arriving and plan to keep spending time with is a gay man. Oh, my God. I don’t have straight friends.”

“We can all go to gay bars together! It’ll be great!” Aidan said cheerfully.

* * *

It was only seven by the time they were done with dinner and the dishes were put away. “Do you really want to do your nighttime routine now?” Luke asked. “I can hang around for an hour until you’re ready to start.”

“No, we’re good,” Dean said on a yawn. “I’ve got jet lag still, so I’m probably going to pass out right after physical therapy stuff. Possibly during, to be honest.”

“Okay,” Luke said simply. “Let me make sure I’ve got your routine memorized: bathroom, shower, teeth, pajamas, physical therapy range-of-motion stuff, and bed, right?”

Dean nodded. “Perfect.” He looked over at Aidan. “You want to come, babe? I know it might not be comfortable with this, but I’d feel a bit better with you there,” he said softly. “Not that I don’t trust you,” he added hastily to Luke. “It’s just always a little awkward to do the first nighttime routine, and, you know, it’d just be nice to have Aidan there.”

“I’ll be happy to hang out while you shower,” Aidan answered. “I don’t know how we’re all going to fit in the bathroom, but I guess I can sit on the toilet tank while you shower or something.”

“Cool,” Luke said, following Dean’s lead toward the bedroom. He was a little surprised when the blond man stopped in the middle of the room. “I thought we were going to the bathroom?”

“Aid’s right, it’s going to be crowded in there,” Dean said. “Let’s get me undressed out here and you can carry me into the bathroom.” He looked up at Luke with sharp eyes. “I need you to be really careful, though. I’m not… I’m not exactly thrilled at the thought of you carrying me that far on the first day, but I want Aidan there, and…”

Aidan rolled up next to Dean and put a hand on his arm. “I’ll get out of my chair and use my hands to push myself in, babe. I don’t do it much, but I can, and that way we fit in easily, especially if you switch to your manual chair.”

“Okay,” Dean said, nodding. “Luke, what’s going to be best is if we get me undressed on the bed, and then put me in my manual chair to go into the bathroom.”

Once Dean was undressed and in the bathroom, Aidan slid out of his wheelchair, pushing himself forward with his hands, using them as if they were crutches. He put his arms forward, swung his body and the tiny part of his legs that was left forward, and then started it again. He was slow this way, nowhere near as fast as he was in his wheelchair, or as fast as he had been at this as a kid, but he made it. “Hello, all!” he said cheerfully, looking for a place to pull himself up so that he wouldn’t be on the ground. “Dean, do you mind if I use your wheelchair to help me get up on the counter?”

“Go for it,” Dean replied from the toilet, tilting his head to stretch his neck. “Is it in a good position for you? You can move it if you need to.”

“I’ll manage,” Aidan said, pulling himself up into Dean’s chair, and then balancing on the remainder of his legs to reach up to the counter and pull himself up. He flipped himself into a comfortable sitting position next to the sink. “I don’t want to go back to Ireland tomorrow,” he declared. “I want to stay here.”

Dean smiled sadly. “Yeah, I know. But you need to work, and I need to work, and you’ll be back in a couple weeks, right? Plus we can IM or Skype pretty easily now since there isn’t a time difference.”

“Yeah,” Aidan said quietly. “We can.” It wasn’t enough, wasn’t everything he wanted, but it was something, and that was better than nothing.


	14. Oh jeez this is an important one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys see Tatyana McFadden won the women's wheelchair division of the Boston Marathon with a time of 1:35:05? And she set a record for the London Marathon course.
> 
> This is just a fun fact. Tatyana McFadden is awesome! Look her up!

After over a year of traveling to England every other weekend, Aidan was ready to scream. He hated spending only five or six days a month with his boyfriend. Yeah, they got holidays together, but they each used up a fair amount of work vacations travelling to sports games. However, the young Irishman had a plan, and he was excited when Friday rolled around, and was all smiles when he got to Dean’s apartment at eight in the evening. “Hey, baby,” he said cheerfully, closing and locking the door behind himself before wheeling into the living room to give his boyfriend a happy kiss. “Hey, Luke,” he added, smiling at the Welshman, who was stretching Dean’s legs while they watched television.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Dean replied happily. “How was your trip?”

Aidan shrugged. “It was okay,” he answered. “You know, I sort of wanted to talk about that.”

“Oh jeez, look at the time, I’d better go,” Luke said, clearly attempting to run before any sort of relationship conversation came about. “I’ll be back on Sunday night, okay?” He hustled out the door, hoping he wouldn’t get a tearful call from Dean that he needed help that weekend after all; those two were a cute couple and Luke didn’t want to see distance fuck up their relationship.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Aidan. “Did he need to leave in fear like that, or is this a non-breakup conversation?” he asked as casually as he could.

“Non-breakup,” Aidan promised. “Sort of the opposite, really. Um, look, I’m not really good at this shit. It’s just… I hate traveling back and forth. I hate that we don’t share a bed every night, and that most days we talk over Skype. So, I was thinking, we’ve dated for like a year and a half, and I know it’s not that long of a time, but, still, I’ve heard of people who get married sooner than that, so why should we--“

“Are you just mumbling weird stuff or are you asking me to marry you?” Dean interrupted, heart beating wildly.

“Fuck, this is unromantic, but the second one,” Aidan said, blushing. “Marriage. You, me, rings, living in London. Would you like that?”

Dean smirked. “I’m not going to answer til you pop the question properly,” he told the younger man cheerfully.

“I can’t exactly go down on one knee, since I don’t have knees” Aidan pointed out, smiling as well. “But, hey, Dean O’Gorman, I love you so fucking much, so… would you marry me?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, smile getting impossibly wider. “Yeah, that would be great.” He reached out one hand and tugged the younger man’s shirt. “Come here,” he muttered, sighing happily when Aidan slid into his lap. “Whoa. Marriage.”

Aidan leaned on Dean’s shoulder, kissing at the New Zealander’s neck affectionately. “Yeah. And it would be legal and everything here! I’ve been looking around and talking to people in the area, and I can play for a team here and just go back to the Irish team for championships, and I can work in a bank around here, like I do in Dublin, and…” He looked a little sheepish. “Obviously, I’ve been planning this for a while.”

“That’s a good thing,” Dean assured his boyfriend--no, his _fiancé_ \--quickly. “Planning means you’re really committed to the idea, not just that you thought of it while a baby screamed in your ear on the way over.”

After one last kiss to Dean’s neck, Aidan sat up straight. “Okay, now, the next part of my plan was to take you out for dinner,” he informed the older man happily. “Do you want to dress up or go casual?”

“Casual,” Dean said decisively. “I coached today and had a long practice of my own so I do not want to put in the effort to change clothes. Can you help me back into my chair?”

Obligingly, Aidan pushed himself back into his own chair and grabbed Dean’s legs to help him into his chair. After a fair amount of maneuvering and some creative cursing--it was not the easiest couch to transfer from--the older man was situated. “Okay, grab your keys and let’s go!” Aidan demanded, too excited to wait.

Luckily, since he was so tired, Dean was already in his power chair and didn’t have to take the time to switch between chairs. He swung by the kitchen counter and put his phone, keys, and wallet in his lap. After they got out of the apartment and locked the doors behind themselves, Aidan put Dean’s things into the backpack on the back of the older man’s chair, and they were off to the bus stop.

“I’m going to have to sell my car and get one that will fit both of our wheelchairs,” Aidan commented, loving that he had to plan for their life together. “Ooh, maybe I can get one with a sweet ramp. That way you could just roll on in. That would be nice.”

Dean laughed. “We could have a minivan like couple of suburban mums,” he teased. “That would be great, though. I don’t like having to get put into a car and then my chair getting stowed far away. A car with a ramp would be independent.”

“Exactly!” Aidan would have continued to enthuse about how great an accessible car would be, but the bus pulled up and they had to pause their conversation to go up the ramp and let the driver secure their wheelchairs. Sadly, the wheelchair areas were across from each other, so a private conversation wouldn’t work very well. They settled for just grinning at each other and deciding where downtown they wanted to eat.

After twenty minutes on the bus, they got off in a relatively busy section of downtown London and headed into a noodle restaurant, chatting happily. Once they were at a table and had decided on their food, Dean broached the topic of the “getting married” thing again. “I have to tell my mum about this engagement business!” he said excitedly. “In fact, I should definitely do that before I tweet a cute picture of us and mention getting engaged.”

Aidan laughed. “Yeah, she might not take well to finding out about your engagement through Twitter or the Paralympic Games page on Facebook,” he agreed. “I can’t believe I’ve only met them over Skype,” he added. “I guess I’ll meet them at the actual wedding. I told my family I was planning to ask you, and my ma was already looking up nice churches in London, so… be warned,” he finished simply. “She’s going to try to plan our whole wedding for us, probably.”

“I’m okay with that, really,” Dean said honestly. “I think I’d get bored of choosing, like, flowers or meals or… other things? See, I don’t even know what you do for a wedding. I’ll plan a honeymoon, though!” he added brightly. “I’m thinking warm weather, and a resort. A resort with a pool, since wheeling on the beach is seriously the worst thing ever.”

“Between you and my mum, I don’t have to plan anything,” Aidan said, sounding rather pleased with that idea. “Less work for me!” Their conversation stopped for a moment as a waiter came by to take their orders, but they picked up again once he was gone. “Do you want to call your family when we get home? It’ll be morning in New Zealand, so they should be up. And then you don’t have to worry about bragging about your super great fiancé online.” Aidan didn’t have Twitter, and never really was on Facebook, but Dean kept up a cheerful, informative Twitter that tended to be about sports and his competitions but occasionally included photos of the two of them when they did especially cute couple-y things.

“That sounds good. We can Skype instead of call, though, since I’m sure they’d like to gush at both of us and see our faces,” Dean replied, carefully pulling his water glass towards him and taking a sip through the straw. “Eventually it’ll sink in that we’re going to get married, right?” he asked after a few moments. “Right now it feels like I’m talking about something that isn’t actually real. After my accident, when I was all super depressed and shit, I was convinced I would never get married, and even though we were super serious I just never got fully out of that mindset, I guess. It doesn’t help that guys in New Zealand aren’t really into serious relationships til they’re, like, forty.”

Aidan looked at Dean with a little bit of sadness. “You seriously thought you would never get married?” he asked. “How could you think that? You’re amazing.”

“It was right after my accident. I was depressed and convinced my life was over. The feeling eventually passed. Didn’t you ever have that feeling?” Dean asked, a little confused. He had thought every disabled person had that feeling, at least for a fleeting moment.

“No. I barely remember life before I became disabled, though. You had dated and stuff before your accident, but this is all I’ve ever known. Looking back, it doesn’t even feel like I lost something, you know? I guess it felt like that at the time, but not anymore. I never dated as an able-bodied person, and since I dated while being a triple amputee, I knew it happened. Does this make any sense? Like at all?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably the difference between becoming disabled when you’re five versus when you’re twenty-one. The majority of my life was spent being able-bodied. My…” He blushed a little. “My sexual awakening or whatever happened when I was able-bodied, and, like, my closest disabled friend before you was always Jed, who can walk and stuff. He’s married, but mild CP compared to moderate quadriplegia?” He shrugged. “Before you say anything, I know this is all internalized ableism, but it’s hard to shake off.”

“Well, a good way to start shaking it off is to remember that you have moderate quadriplegia and are getting married to a highly attractive world-class athlete,” Aidan said, a teasing smile on his face. “Plus, you’re better looking than Jed. Feel free to tell him that, ‘cause it’s true.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Dean leaned over the table and kissed Aidan’s nose. “I love you.”

* * *

Three hours later, across the world, Jed opened up Twitter on his phone to take a break from work. There was a cute picture of Dean and Aidan, grinning as they took a ridiculous selfie. His eyes slid up to read the tweet that went with it.

_guess what paralympic couple is getting married? yeah its me & aidan._

Jed grinned and hit the retweet button before opening his email to send a congratulatory message to his friend, along with demands to be in the wedding, preferably as best man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love marriage. Plus happiness. I was going to write more long-distance stuff but it was kind of depressing to write. So now that they are going to be in the same country (and, you know, same apartment) it can be on with happier stuff! And married stuff!


	15. Parental Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the endnotes after the chapter for an explanation of someone being a dick in this chapter. Thanks, y'all

Dean was a little twitchy as he waited in the arrivals area of Heathrow. Aidan, somehow, looked utterly relaxed, smiling at little kids who looked at him with wide eyes and nudging his boyfriend every minute or so.

“Are you excited? I’m excited. I get to see your parents in person!” Aidan chirruped. “I mean, if we had been serious in Rio, I would have met them, probably, but I didn’t. And I mean, talking to them on Skype was great and all, but now I’m going to hug them and shit.”

“I’m pretty excited, yeah,” Dean said hesitantly. “I mean, it’ll be fun, but my parents can be sort of overbearing, and my mum is going to be really, really into planning our wedding. It’ll probably drive me crazy.”

Aidan shrugged. “Yeah. When you say overbearing, do you mean they’re going to be bossy with your care?” he asked suspiciously. “That is really stressful. What if they think I’m bad at helping you?”

“I think you’re great at helping me with shit, and I think they’re going to defer their judgment to me,” Dean answered honestly. “Yeah, they’re probably going to try to be around at least one night while you’re helping, just to check how good you are, but after that they’ll back off into the guest room every evening. And you go back to Ireland for your last couple weeks in a few days, and then they can judge Luke for a change.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s good. I’ll go back to being excited,” Aidan said decisively. “Their flight got in forty-five minutes ago, they should be here any second.”

He was right; within a minute Dean’s parents were walking into the baggage claim area. Aidan recognized them immediately, from pictures and video chats. It also helped that their faces lit up and they nearly jogged over to him and Dean.

“Dean! Sweetie, you look great,” Christine O’Gorman said happily, hugging her son so tightly she nearly pulled him out of his wheelchair. “It’s so nice to finally visit you in England.”

Lance, on the other hand, went straight for Aidan, reaching out to shake the young man’s hand before pulling him into a hug. “It’s so nice to see you in person,” he said genially, looking closely at Aidan as he pulled back from the brief embrace. “We’re so happy you and Dean are getting married.”

Aidan smiled widely, feeling more comfortable after such a warm greeting. “It’s great to see you too, Lance. Talking on Skype isn’t the same as really being in the same room,” he cheerfully. “How was your flight?”

“It was long,” Christine said, letting go of Dean to give Aidan a similarly big hug. “But it was worth it, to be with you two!” She looked at the brunet with a sharp eye. “You look even more attractive in person than on the computer. Not that you weren’t attractive on the computer,” she added hastily. “Anyway, darling, we’re so happy to be here. We just need to pick up a our bags from the carousel.”

“I can do that for you, Christine,” Aidan said quickly, wheeling over toward baggage carousel four with Lance.

Christine turned to Dean, beaming. “What a sweet young man,” she said happily. “He’s so nice in person, like over the webcam, and he’s very helpful too, dear. Is he doing well as a PCA for you? When he’s here, I mean,” she added. “Obviously, you have Luke during the week. Is Aidan as good as a professional?”

It was difficult for Dean not to roll his eyes at the immediate questioning regarding Aidan once the younger man was out of earshot. “Mum, he’s wonderful. Luke is nice and really great with me, but Aidan is my fiancé and he is loving and makes me comfortable when he’s helping me out. He’s not a professional or anything, but he’s so responsive to what I say that it doesn't matter.”

Christine nodded, satisfied. “Just what I want to hear,” she said happily. “Now, sweetie, I was thinking that once we put our bags away, your father and I could go to the grocery store and pick up some things to make you two dinner. Dinner will have to be early, though.”

“I know. Jet lag,” Dean said, knowing the feeling well. “Aidan and I got the whole guest room set up. I had used it to store all my racing stuff, but I finally got some space at the track to store my stuff, so we could use the futon in there as a bed for you two. Does that sound okay? It’s not the most comfortable, but I don’t think we can switch rooms. I’m sorry, it’s just that the futon kind of mattress is really bad for my back and since I can’t turn over very well, I—“

“Stop apologizing, Dean. You should keep your bed. It would be silly for you to move out of your room for two weeks while we visit.”

Before Dean responded, Aidan and Lance appeared, one suitcase with each of them. “Ready?” Aidan asked happily. “We’ve got an accessible cab waiting outside. We’re going to buy our own van soon, but we want to wait until I’m totally moved over here. I need to sell my car back in Ireland, anyway.” He shut up after a second, realizing that he was rambling pointlessly about random details.

“That’ll be great,” Lance said pleasantly. “I like that you two have got things planned out. I’m sure it’s harder to go into a marriage without spending ages thinking about details when you’re disabled.”

Aidan nodded. “I suppose. I hadn’t really noticed, though. I mean, being disabled is all I’ve ever known.” He waved cheerfully at their cab driver as they approached the van. “Anyway, planning is great. People who plan things get things done, you know.”

“Dad, it’s not that much more planning than able-bodied people do. They have to figure out selling cars and moving. We just have different details,” Dean pointed out as they loaded their bags into the minivan. Once their bags were inside, his parents got in, and the ramp was lowered for his and Aidan’s wheelchairs.

* * *

“It’s such a lovely flat you have here!” Christine gushed as they walked through the door. “Where do you want us to put our bags, sweetie?”

“Just in there,” Dean said, pointing to the door to the guest room. “And, well, there’s only one bathroom, so you’ll need to cut through our room to get in there. Sorry.”

Lance smiled. “Don’t be sorry, Dean. It’s fine. We’ll make sure to knock on the door before we come in, if you two are in there.” He pulled their suitcases into the guest room and left them there. “Now, where’s the grocery store?” he asked. “Just directions!” he added quickly. “You two are going to stay here while we shop, because I know you’re going to run yourselves ragged with us here for the next two weeks. We’re giving you a preemptive break.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said happily, and then gave them a quick rundown of the directions to the store. “We’ll see you in a few minutes. It’s really close.”

Once the O’Gormans were out of the apartment, Dean sagged down in his power chair. “Okay, that went well, right? They seem happy about the whole engagement and they aren’t worried about us living alone together, because they would have already said something if they were. Okay. Cool. I need a nap.”

Aidan grinned. “Yeah, you look a little exhausted. Want to get on the couch or in bed?” he asked, stretching his arms briefly to get ready for a transfer.

“Couch. I want to be out here by the kitchen when they get back and start to cook,” Dean responded quickly. “I know they’ll be around for a while, but I still want to spend as much time with them as possible.”

Aidan understood that feeling, and he helped his fiancé onto the couch quickly. “Mind if I watch some telly?” he asked, sliding onto the couch and maneuvering them so Dean’s head was resting against the armrest and his shoulders were over Aidan’s stumps. “Just while your parents are out,” he added, reaching for the remote. “I’d read, but I’m too tetchy from your parents being here.”

“Go for it,” Dean mumbled, letting his eyes drift shut. “If I fall asleep, I want you to poke me awake when my parents get home, yeah? They’ll try to get you to let me sleep, but don’t listen to them.”

Laughing softly, Aidan nodded in acquiescence. “Will do,” he promised. “Now, you rest, and I’ll watch…” he trailed off as he flicked through the channels. “I’ll watch Gordon Ramsay,” he finished, stopping at he hit the cooking show.

Embarrassingly, Aidan fell asleep as well, and awoke to hushed voices in the kitchen. Knowing he was a bad person, he decided to listen in on their conversation instead of telling them he was awake and offering to help. In his defense, he never claimed to be a perfect person, and he was dying to know what his fiancé’s parents thought of him.

“They look so happy together,” Lance was saying quietly, the sounds of bowls and whatnot clinking around making Aidan strain to hear.

Christine hummed in agreement. “I know, Lance, it’s just… two men in wheelchairs? How can a man with no legs take care of Dean all alone?”

“They’re both Paralympians, dear. They are clearly good at functioning with disabilities. Anyway, Dean needs help, not full care. It’s just morning and evening things, and he speaks up for himself if he needs something. Aidan honestly seems as capable as any man with legs.”

“Well, if he had those fake legs, maybe. Fake legs are almost like having real legs. He could be able-bodied but he won’t,” Christine said, and Aidan struggled to remember that she was uneducated about it, not malicious. “He should have a pair of those fake legs. And that’s not even starting on the arm!”

Okay, Aidan was really regretting that he was listening to this, but he wasn’t one to sit by passively. “I don’t _need_ prosthetic legs,” he said loudly, unable to keep silent any longer. He saw out of the corner of his eyes that Dean was waking up, and he began to stroke the older man’s hair. “If I had them, I would be a little unsteady, and that would be bad for transfers. I’m great at transfers because my arms are really strong from being in a wheelchair and from rugby and stuff. If I had prosthetics, my arms wouldn’t be this strong. If I’m lifting Dean, I don’t need to grip with two hands. One hand has been working really well for the past 18 years.”

Christine smiled widely over the counter at Aidan, only looking a little embarrassed at what the young man had heard. “That is exactly the sort of thing I wanted to hear,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry that I was so worried, but Dean’s my baby.”

“I’m over thirty years old, mum,” Dean argued half-heartedly. “Can’t you at least say I’m your son instead of your baby?”

Aidan smiled, strained but genuine. “Well, I understand your perspective, but please don’t say that I should have legs again. I don’t want them.” His voice was polite but firm. “Sorry, it’s just that prosthetics are a big sore spot for me. Ever since I was a kid, everyone has told me they are better, but I like my wheelchair.”

“Understood,” Lance said. “Sorry, Aidan. Honestly, if you were fully able-bodied, and so was Dean, my wife would still have something to think of as a reason to be worried about the marriage. She would probably say something about how curly hair means you're a little crazy.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, it is, dear,” Lance said placidly. “Come on, let’s finish making this dinner.”

Dean looked up at Aidan, smiling. “Thanks for not yelling,” he whispered to the younger man. “And sorry for that. I know, legs aren’t your favorite subject.”

Aidan grinned. “Well, your legs are pretty great. I’m happy to talk about your legs, babe. It’s the prosthetic ones that I don’t like talking about.” He leaned across Dean’s face to grab the remote and turn off the television.

“What are you making?” Dean asked, switching form a whisper to a voice loud enough for his parents to hear. “It already smells nice.”

“We’re making fried rice with chicken,” Christine answered cheerfully. “We’ve just finished up the rice and the chicken, so now we just have to fry it all up with some vegetables. I hope you two are hungry. I know it’s early, but we’re tired so we’re going to eat right away, if that’s all right.”

“Of course it’s all right,” Aidan said. “We both worked out earlier and we’re exhausted and starving. An early dinner is probably best for us, too. We’ll let you two get ready first, though, so we don’t monopolize the bathroom while we take a shower.”

“You shower together?” Lance said, sounding vaguely scandalized.

Dean snorted. “Of course we do, Dad. I haven’t been able to shower without help since the accident, and it’d be ridiculous for Aidan to help me through a shower, where he has to get in too to help wash me off, and then for him to take another shower. Also, we live together as often as possible, and we are getting married. Are you surprised we get in the shower together?”

Lance nodded, grinning. “Okay, yeah, fair point. I sort of forgot about that. I just don’t particularly want to think about my son in the shower with his fiancé. That sort of thing is uncomfortable for parents.”

Aidan poked Dean gently. “Hey, babe, can we move? Your shoulder is digging into my stumps and it’s killing me.”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry,” Dean said hastily, pushing his torso up as much as possible. “Want to just get me back into my chair? I’ll need it for dinner anyway.” He flashed his parents a smile. “We had to find those chairs for the table while cleaning out the guest room, you know. We never use them, so they were just stacked up to make room out here.” He relaxed as Aidan slid out from behind him to get into his chair. Soon, he was in his own chair and helping Aidan set the table.

Christine smiled as she watched the two men. “Dean,” she began, clearly pleased, “we need to start planning the wedding. I’ve already been thinking, and--“

“Mum, can we wait til tomorrow to plan?” Dean asked. “I’m exhausted, you’re exhausted, and I know you’re going to have all sorts of ideas that I’m going to have to somehow politely refuse.”

“What do you mean, refuse?” Christine asked, shocked. “Sweetie, I’m not going to suggest anything garish. There’s nothing to worry about with my wedding planning, honestly. Aidan, what are your favorite flowers?” she asked as they began to eat.

Aidan looked at her with confusion. “Colorful ones?” he answered, clearly unsure of himself. “I don’t know. I’m pretty relaxed about weddings. I’m okay with whatever, as long as I get married to Dean.”

Dean grinned. “You’re sweet,” he told Aidan before carefully entwining his fork between his fingers to hold it tightly. He fell silent as he started to eat, using most of his energy and concentration to get food on the fork and bring it to his mouth without dropping the food or stabbing himself in the cheek.

“Now, Aidan, honey, are your parents going to visit while we’re here?” Christine asked. “I would really love to meet them. They must be wonderful to have raised such a nice young man.”

Aidan smiled, ducking his head. “I can call them and ask if they want to come with me next weekend. I was thinking of using next weekend to pack up, but I can do that during the week. It would be great for you to meet my parents.” He nodded, cementing the plan is his head. “I’ll call them after dinner, before Dean and I go to bed. They’ll definitely want to come, so unless they have some sort of big plans, I’m sure they’ll be here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to emphasize that Dean's mother is ignorant; she doesn't understand that most disabled people don't like talk of fixing. Because Dean hasn't lived with his parents since his injury, they aren't really exposed to the disabled community. She's worried about her son and doesn't really understand Aidan's abilities, just the perceived deficits. 
> 
> The important thing is that she was uneducated but adapted her views as she learned. Part of defeating ableism is teaching. If she hadn't listened to Aidan when he explained not wanting legs, or kept pressing the issue, that would be ableist. But she doesn't, because I like writing about understanding people instead of people who are ableist even with education about disabilities.


	16. Morning

At four in the morning, Dean woke up to a gentle knock on the door. “Mm?” he mumbled, looking at the clock in disbelief. Why would someone knock on his bedroom door at four?

“Sorry, Dean,” his father whispered as he opened the door and tiptoed into the room. “We woke up--jet lag and all. I’m just going to use the loo and get out of your way.”

“Oh, yeah, fine,” Dean said softly, throwing his arm over his body to help himself turn over. He was surprised to see Aidan’s eyes slightly open. “Hey, go back to sleep,” he murmured. “It’s really freaking early.”

Aidan nodded and curled closer to the New Zealander. “Wait, want me to untangle your legs?” he asked, noticing that while Dean had gotten his torso turned over but not his legs.

“What?” Dean asked, and then he looked down at his lower body and realized what the younger man meant. Though he couldn’t feel his legs, he knew that was going to lose circulation if he didn’t deal with them. “Could you? Thanks.”

“No problem,” Aidan replied, sitting up in the bed and throwing the covers off of their bodies. Dean was rather tangled up, and Aidan wasn’t awake enough to be efficient, but after a few moments he managed to get the blankets off and unwind Dean’s legs and set them onto the bed in a better position. “Want the blankets on or off?” he asked, leaning on Dean’s bare chest and kissing it.

“Do my legs feel warm to the touch?” the older man asked. Since he couldn’t feel simple touch, let alone temperature, in his lower body at all, he relied on other ways to figure out what he needed.

Aidan leaned over and pressed a hand to Dean’s skin. “Yeah, a bit,” he said. “I’ll leave off the blankets, okay? If you want them again, just let me know,” he added, sliding down onto his back once more. He had just closed his eyes when he heard the creak of the bathroom door and automatically looked up.

“Sorry,” Lance whispered, cringing. “When do you two get up?”

“Not at four in the morning,” Dean muttered, and then changed his tone to something a little more cheerful. “Maybe around eight, yeah?”

Lance made his way to the bedroom door. “Eight. Your mum and I will probably make breakfast.”

After his fiancé’s father had left, his mother came in, and Aidan resigned himself to not falling asleep for at least another couple minutes. “My parents are going to stay in a hotel next weekend,” he grumbled softly into Dean’s ear once the bathroom door was shut. “I need my beauty sleep.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, if you don’t get back to sleep right now, I’m sure you’ll be ugly in a couple hours,” he teased, kissing Aidan’s jaw. “When you’re back next weekend, they’ll be done with jet lag and they won’t come into our room so early.”

Aidan made a wordless noise that sounded vaguely like agreement or maybe defeat, and dropped his head down on Dean’s chest. He was more exhausted than he thought, because he was asleep before Christine left the bathroom. When she did, she crouched down by the bed to talk to her son.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Mum, I would be a lot better if I were asleep, because it is four in the morning,” Dean whispered tersely. “We’ll talk in a few hours, okay?”

“Do you need the covers?”

“Aidan just took them off. Please, Mum, it’s great to see you, but I really need to sleep,” Dean mumbled, relieved when his mother slipped out of the room and let him fall back asleep.

When he woke up for the second time, Dean could smell bacon and eggs. “Aid?” he mumbled tiredly, turning his head to look for his fiancé. “Hey, can we get up?”

Aidan nodded, kissing Dean’s cheek before sitting up. “Your legs got tangled up again, babe,” he commented, noticing the strange position of the older man’s legs. “How about you just put on a t-shirt so I can stretch your legs out on the couch after breakfast to get your circulation?” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “That’s a good idea. We can do my legs really fast before we take my parents out for tourist shit.”

The Irishman raised an eyebrow. “We’re doing tourist shit today?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “At least for lunch. I’m going to be working all week, so I want to take them out a little on the weekend. I’m coaching on Tuesday, so they’re going to come watch that, but otherwise they’re on their own. Come on, it’ll be fun.” He worked hard to help Aidan help him up. “Let’s do power chair today, okay? If we’re going to go out around London, I need all my energy for that.”

“Yeah, that’s a really good idea,” Aidan said, pulling himself out of bed and pushing himself across the floor on his hands to get Dean’s power chair. After a bit of a struggle, he steered the heavy chair next to the bed and slid out of it. “I’ll grab your legs from down here, and you can do your torso, right?”

“On it,” Dean agreed quickly, scooting himself to the edge of the bed and pulling his torso out of bed and to his chair as Aidan lifted his legs and helped him slide over and get comfortable. “Okay, get your chair because I’m really fucking hungry.”

Aidan complied quickly, also wanting to get up and have some breakfast as soon as possible.

“Good morning!” Dean called out cheerfully as they made their way into the kitchen and living room area, where his parents were sitting at the kitchen table, each reading a section of the newspaper.

“Good morning, boys,” Christine called back, smiling as her son came out of his bedroom.

Dean bit back a groan as his left leg began to spasm, and he knew that he had to do his stretches soon. “Not that we’re the sort of people who eat on the couch instead of the table, but my legs got all weird sometime in the night and I need to stretch them to make sure I’ve got circulation in them.”

Lance cleared his throat. “I already ate. Why don’t I stretch Dean’s legs so Aidan can eat?” he suggested. “It’s been a couple years since I’ve done that, but I remember how.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said gratefully. Once he had pulled up to the table and watched Dean get onto the couch for his stretches, he turned to Christine. “Is there anything special you want to do today?” he asked politely.

Christine smiled as she loaded up plates of bacon and eggs for her son and Aidan. “I know it’s silly, but I wanted to visit the big Twining’s shop to find all sorts of teas,” she said as she placed a plate in front of the younger man. “I’ve heard that the line for the London Eye is always long, so I’ll skip that. Maybe Buckingham Palace?” she said, directing her questioning tone towards her husband as she put a plate on the coffee table near Dean. Her son was sitting up as his father moved his legs through range-of-motion exercises, and he managed to snag the plate to start eating.

“We can do that, Mum,” Dean promised between bites. “Maybe we can head downtown and wander around until lunch, and then see the Palace after we eat. Does that sound okay?”

“Lovely,” Christine answered, sounding pleased as she sat down at the table. “We’re going to try to stay up tonight, so that we can adjust our sleep schedule, so why don’t we talk about the wedding after dinner tonight?”

Dean groaned quietly. “Fine,” he grumbled, sounding long-suffering and making his father laugh as the older O’Gorman switched which leg he was stretching.

“Sweetie, if you hate planning a wedding this much, you need me and Aidan’s mum to talk about it all the time, or it will never get planned,” Christine pointed out. “Oh, Aidan, did you manage to talk to your parents about visiting next weekend?”

Swallowing quickly so he could answer, Aidan nodded. “Yeah, they’re going to come on Friday evening and stay til Sunday evening,” he said. “They’re really excited about it, and my mum can’t wait to talk about the wedding with someone who understands what she’s saying and doesn’t just nod along, like Dean and I do,” he added, grinning.

“I thought you just asked a priest to come and then showed up in a suit, and maybe bought some food for afterwards, but it turns out, that is _not_ the case,” Dean told his father, who just laughed.

“Mm, Dean, I forgot to tell you,” Aidan started after he finished his food. “I found a rugby team to join here, yeah? The coach is the British team head coach!” He smiled and thanked Christine as she took his plate away to the kitchen.

Dean was in the middle of a bite, but nodded along with Aidan’s explanation. “Cool,” he said, once he had swallowed. “I was a little worried that you wouldn’t get as good coaching here, but it sounds like you’re in good hands.”

Clearly still in a wedding frame of mind, Christine asked, “Dean, who’s going to be your best man?”

“I don’t know,” Dean answered honestly. “Probably Brett, I guess, since he’s my brother. It’s him or Jed, really. I think there’s a rule where it has to be your brother if you have one?”

“Well, Brett might be sad if you don’t ask him,” Lance pointed out. “Jed should have some responsibility, though.”

“Flower girl?” Aidan suggested happily.

Dean snorted. “You don’t even have those with gay weddings. Nobody’s walking down the aisle.” He finished up his food and put his plate on the coffee table. “Thanks for the leg stuff, Dad,” he said, pushing himself into a better position. “Let me and Aid get dressed and then we can head downtown, okay?”

It took Aidan and Dean a while to get dressed, but by 10:30 they were downtown with Dean’s parents. “Okay, Mum, the Twining’s shop is over there,” Dean said, pointing to the left after looking down at his smartphone for directions. “Do you want to go there first?”

“Sure, that would be lovely,” Christine said cheerfully. “And then maybe we can go see Big Ben before we get lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not exactly the most fulfilling chapter, but I'm sort of struggling right now, and it's better than nothing, yeah? Yeah.


	17. Dean's Parents, Still Here

As usual on Sunday mornings, Dean was less than ecstatic. As much as he loved weekends, Sundays were when it all ended and Aidan went back to Ireland. Though the younger man would be moving to London for good in just two weeks, it still sucked to separate again. “Do you really have to go home?” the New Zealander asked lazily as he lay on Aidan’s chest.

“Yeah,” the brunet replied, like he did every Sunday. “We should probably get up, babe. Your parents have probably been up for a couple hours and are waiting for us.” He gently moved Dean’s head from his chest onto a pillow so he could sit up. “Here, why don’t we get you up and ready so you can hang out with them while I take a shower?”

Dean nodded, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position as Aidan got out of bed and into his wheelchair. “What do you want for breakfast, Aid? I can make you some eggs and bacon, if you want,” he said as he looped his arms around his fiancé’s neck and gave him a kiss. He let go of the younger man so he could bring Dean’s manual wheelchair to the side of the bed. With practiced ease, the older man swung his upper body as Aidan grabbed his legs and lifted them to his wheelchair. “Thanks, babe,” Dean said cheerfully, leading the way to the bathroom.

Thirty minutes later, he was dressed and out in the living room with his parents. “Do either of you want breakfast?” he asked as he headed into the kitchen. “I’m making some eggs and bacon for Aidan.”

“We already ate, dear,” his mother replied, following him into the kitchen and pouring herself another cup of coffee. “When does Aidan have to leave today?”

“Five. Oh, he called his parents last night, and they’re going to take the ferry with him on Friday to come over here. He’s going to bring a bunch of his stuff over to make moving easier, so we’ll have to do a bit of unpacking, but then we’ve got a whole weekend with the Turners. They’re really great, Mum. You’re going to love them.”

“Where are they staying?” Lance asked. “There’s not room in the apartment.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, they’re doing a hotel. They’re just going to sleep there, though, because they want to spend time with you. And Mrs. Turner is really excited to talk wedding plans with Mum, so maybe we can take you and Aidan’s dad somewhere for a couple hours to leave them to it,” he told his father as he got out eggs, bacon, butter, and a pan to cook everything in.

“I can’t believe you don’t care about the plans for your own wedding,” Christine said with a sigh.

“I don’t care about the plans, Mum. I still care about the wedding,” Dean explained, starting the bacon on the stove. “I just don’t really get the big fuss. I mean, I’m going to work on the guest list, but I honestly don’t care that much about things like flowers and what kind of food there is. Well,” he amended, “I care about the food a bit, just because of what my friends can eat. A couple of people we’ll invite are vegetarians, and at least two of my teammates have celiac, so we need a gluten-free option, but I think that’s it.”

Christine rolled her eyes. “This is why you need to be involved in the process,” she told her son. “Do you have a church around here? We’ll need to figure out a venue and a date.”

Her son shook his head. “We’ve really only gone to church on major holidays, and we’ve gone to Ireland to do those with Aidan’s family.” He shrugged. “We don’t _need_ to do it in a church, but ask Mrs. Turner just to make sure. If it’s important to Aidan’s parents, I’m game.” With the bacon sizzling in one pan, he pulled out another and began to melt some butter in it, tossing in two eggs once it was hot.

“How about you and Aidan work on a guest list today, so that next weekend your mum and his will have an idea of how many people will come?” Lance suggested to his son. “Between walking around so much yesterday and jet lag, we could do with a home day today.” He paused. “Does the team you coach have practice tomorrow?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, at four,” he said. “I can give you the address of the track we use, if you want to come. Tomorrow is practice for the little kids, and there are eight of them. They’re really cute.”

“That would be great,” Lance said, grinning. “I’d love to see you coaching.”

Noticing the bacon had gotten crisp, Dean turned off the burner under that pan and put the meat on a plate. He was just finishing up the eggs when he heard the bedroom door shut and saw Aidan coming out. “Hey, I’ve got some breakfast for you, babe,” he called out, pushing the plate toward the end of the counter for the younger man to pick up.

“Thanks!” Aidan said, pulling the plate into his lap. “Do you have something to eat?” he added, noticing there wasn’t any more food left in the pans.

The older man nodded. “I’m going to have some fruit,” he answered, pulling a banana and an apple toward himself before setting them aside and resigning himself to washing up from making breakfast. Luckily, cleaning two pans wasn’t that hard, and within a couple minutes, Dean was next to Aidan at the kitchen table, eating his banana and listening to his mother explain to Aidan that they had to make up a wedding guest list.

“Mum,” Dean began when there was a break in the conversation, “give him a chance to wake up. He just got out of the shower.”

Aidan grinned. “It’s fine,” he assured his future mother-in-law. “I woke up an hour ago. I’m awake enough to understand that Dean and I are going to make a guest list today. We can do that this morning, so we can go out this afternoon.”

“We’re planning to stay in today,” Christine assured him. “You two can make a guest list, and then this afternoon we could watch a movie or play cards for a while or something.”

“Great,” Aidan said between mouthfuls.

* * *

By noon, Aidan had figured out that wedding planning was difficult, and the only thing he had done was work on a guest list. It had started out so easy, with their families and their closest friends, but it had quickly gotten harder. While Aidan’s team members all lived relatively close by, Dean’s teammates were halfway around the world, leaving them to wonder if it was rude to only invite a couple of them or to invite all of them and assume most wouldn’t come.

“Okay, let’s just… pause on my team for a bit, and deal with them later,” Dean said after ages agonizing over which non-Jed teammates to invite. “English friends. Obviously, Luke and Adam, but what about the other guys?”

“I’m thinking Richard and Graham would be great,” Aidan said, scrawling those names down. “Um, from my club team here, I think I’m going to just go with Orlando. I haven’t met anyone else on the team yet, but he’s really nice, so he’d be a good guest.”

Dean groaned. “Can we take a break?” he asked. They had started an hour previously, after a lazy morning spent reading and drinking coffee, and the blond man was absolutely sick of thinking about wedding things. “I’ll go back to thinking about the wedding after lunch or something. Mum, it’s looking like a hundred or so people for it? Right?” he added, switching from his talking to his mother to Aidan.

The younger man nodded. “That sounds right.” He had been surprised when the numbers had started piling up--though they hadn’t figured out Dean’s team, they had also been talking about their friends from other teams and other countries, as well as friends from work. “Honestly, as much as we whine about planning, I’m happy to help on things like food and… well, basically everything but the decorations.” He shrugged. “If decorating were up to me, the church would be plain and the reception would just have folding tables and chairs, you know?”

“That’s why your mother and I are going to be doing some planning next weekend,” Christine said, smiling. “Not only would you end up with no decorations, but you’d procrastinate so much that the everything would just be thrown together.” She sighed dramatically. “Men.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, we’re lucky to have you helping,” he said cheerfully, backing up from the table. “Do you want to go out to lunch, or should we make something here?” he asked his family, wheeling towards the couch where his parents sat. “If we’re going out, I need to put on something other than sweatpants,” he added. “So we should decide kind of soon, since that will take a bit.” He smiled widely as he remembered his conversation with his PCA the previous evening. “Oh, I talked to Luke last night and he’s really excited to meet you guys. He’s bringing over some groceries and we’re going to make a nice dinner.”

“That’s great!” Lance said excitedly. “He sounds like such a nice man. I’m glad you found a good assistant, since you were moving away from us. When you lived close to home, I could always think that if you had any issues with an assistant, I could drive over and help out, but when you moved halfway ‘round the world, that wasn’t really a thing I could do. I guess if anything had been too wrong, Aidan would come. Not that we knew you were moving here for a man,” he added, smirking a little. “Sneaky, Dean, not telling us about this Aidan guy.”

Aidan made a surprised noise. “They hadn’t heard of me at all before you moved?” he asked his fiancé, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t go back home after Rio gushing about the man you hooked up with?”

“You said you met him in Rio, not that you ‘hooked up’ with him!” Lance said, scandalized. “You said you reconnected with him here and started to date, not that you already had a thing.”

The Irishman grimaced apologetically at Dean. “Sorry. Didn’t realizing I was providing some unknown details,” he muttered, blushing. “Maybe ‘hook up’ is the wrong word,” he said louder, backpedaling furiously. “I mean, it was more just a lot of flirting between us, you know?” He knew lying was wrong, but Dean’s father had sounded so uncomfortable, and he wasn’t about to tell his fiancé’s parents that they had spent a month in Rio having, like, _all_ of the sex. “Our friends pretty much thought of us as a ‘thing’ there.”

Behind her husband, Christine raised her eyebrows at Dean, clearly seeing past Aidan’s improvised lies but unwilling to tell her husband; if he didn’t want to know that Dean and Aidan had been getting together in Rio, she wasn’t going to be the one to force the knowledge on him. She had always been the parent who saw through Dean’s attempts to act like the perfect kid; she had been the one who noticed Dean’s hangovers from parties in high school, and had applied the same principle, that as long as her son was safe and happy, his father didn’t need to know about his less than perfect choices.

“Whatever, Dad, it’s not a big deal,” Dean said hastily. “The point is, I was moving partially to try living my life away from my family for the first time since the accident, and, yeah, partially because I had fallen a bit for Aidan and was willing to come closer to try to date him. I wasn’t going to tell _you_ that, because Jed had already given me the whole speech about how that wasn’t a great idea. I know you’re happy with how it turned out, but you know you wouldn’t have approved at the time.”

Lance considered for a moment, and then nodded. “That’s probably true. You’re forgiven, Dean.”

The blond looked over at his fiancé. “Before you said anything, there was nothing to forgive me for,” he muttered, grinning. He cleared his throat and spoke up. “So, lunch here or out?”


	18. Mo' Parents, Mo' Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a while to update. My medical problems went to shit and I probably need a bunch of injections into my legs and/or back so I've been stressing about that. Anyway, here's a chapter. Woohoo!

It only took one day without Aidan for Dean to start going stir crazy. Usually, he didn’t mind that much, but with his parents there, he was exhausted. They were unused to his everyday life; when they had visited him back at his apartment in Auckland, it had always been during his free time. Now, they expected to do similar things, like spending time after dinner together and trying out restaurants. On Wednesday night, Luke finally had to say something.

“Dean, you’re running yourself ragged,” the Welshman said bluntly as he lifted the athlete onto the toilet at the track where Dean coached. “Tell them you need a break tonight and Skype Aidan or something.”

Dean had coached his teenager racers that day, and his parents, who had loved seeing him coach the little kids a couple days previously, had come to watch. Coaching teenagers was already tough, what with their raging hormones and emotions, and having his parents watch hadn’t helped Dean’s mood. He desperately wanted time without them, but was too polite to say so. “I can’t tell them that. They’ve been here for less than a week, and it’s going to hurt their feelings if I tell them I don’t want to spend time with them,” he told his PCA. “I’m just tired, you know? I’d be happy just to talk to Aidan for a few minutes on Skype and fall asleep while he tells me about his week.”

“Tell them that,” Luke said firmly. “They’re not going to be mad. I don’t think they realized how exhausting it is to work, train, and coach. That’s a lot of shit you do, Deano. I’m surprised you haven’t snapped and screamed at them yet.” He shrugged, leaning against the wall lazily as the older man held onto the bar on the wall in order to balance. “You need to do your own thing tonight. They can go out to dinner by themselves and we can make you something fast at home so you can get in bed early and just Skype Aidan for a bit.”

Finally, Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah,” he mumbled, yawning. “I’ll tell them before we leave the track, okay?” He sighed tiredly. “I’m done. Let’s head out, Luke. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Luke smiled and nodded and lifted Dean up from the toilet and helped to get his pants back on before stepping back so that the blond man could wheel out of the stall to wash his hands. A few moments later, they rejoined Dean’s parents in the lobby.

“Hey, guys, I need a really laid back night, okay?” Dean said to his parents. “I was thinking you two could go out for dinner, and Luke will help me make something fast at home and I’ll go to bed early and Skype with Aidan. I’m just really tired right now.”

“That’s fine, sweetie,” Christine said immediately. “I know we’ve been making you do more than usual all week. We’ll take a cab to a nice neighborhood to get dinner and you just rest. If Aidan is bringing over some of his things this weekend, you’ll need energy to help him unpack.”

Lance nodded from behind his wife. “Get some rest, and tell Aidan that we’re looking forward to seeing him and meeting his parents this weekend,” he told his son, smiling.

An hour later, Dean had finished eating and getting ready for bed, and Luke had left the blond man in bed with his laptop, his lamp still on. Dean was in the middle of a big yawn when Aidan answered his Skype call. “Hey, gorgeous,” the older man said, voice warped by his yawn. “How are you?”

“Good,” Aidan replied, smiling happily at the sight of Dean. “I’ve gotten most of my shit packed up, so I’m going to bring most of my clothes and random crap this weekend, and just keep the essentials to bring over next weekend.” He wiggled excitedly. “Then I’ll be all moved in!”

As tired as he was, Dean couldn’t help but smile widely. “It’s going to be great,” he enthused. “My mum helped me clean up some of my drawers so you can have more than just half of one, since you’ll have all your clothes instead of just a weekend bag’s worth.” He picked up his laptop and turned it around to show Aidan how clean the top of the dresser was, and how organized his bookshelf had become. “Mum got a little overenthusiastic about cleaning,” he said when he turned his laptop back the correct way. “I’m sure we’ll get it messy again within a week.”

“I know it’s only been a few days, but I miss you,” Aidan said softly. “I can’t wait til we’re living together.” He reached up and scratched his face gently. “I’ve been lonely at night without you in my bed,” he began in a teasing tone. “And last weekend was a little tame, with your parents in the next room and all.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know, but this weekend won’t be much better,” he pointed out. “After my parents leave and you move in, though, we can go crazy.” He yawned again. “I love you, babe, but I’m tired and need to go the fuck to sleep.” He smiled shyly. “If I put my laptop on the bedside table, can you just talk to me til I fall asleep? I miss your voice.”

Aidan nodded, smiling and waiting until the video feed from Dean stopped wobbling, his laptop clearly set up. Softly, he began to tell his fiancé about how his week had gone thus far, only stopping when he heard the older man begin to snore. “I love you, Dean,” he whispered before ending the video call and closing his laptop.

* * *

On Friday, Aidan took the day off work and met his parents for the morning ferry over to England. While they had originally planned to go there and back in one car, Aidan had ended up packing his station wagon full of boxes to take over to the apartment. Once they were parked on the ferry, though, he got out of his car and wheeled over to the deck to hang out with his family. “Good morning,” he said, the excitement of seeing Dean making him able to be chipper despite having gotten up three and a half hours earlier at 5:30. “I have over half my stuff to move in. I can’t believe it’s just another week til I’ll be living with Dean full-time.”

“It’s wonderful, dear,” his mother said, smiling before breaking into a yawn. “What are Dean’s parents like?” she asked.

Aidan shrugged. “They’re really nice, but…” He grimaced. “Okay, not to talk shit about my future in-laws, but they don’t get disability like you guys do. They still sort of baby Dean a bit. Like they push him sometimes when he doesn’t ask, and they do things for him a lot, stuff I’ve seen him do by himself. I know it isn’t intentional, but it’s ableist.”

His father nodded, looking sympathetic. “You were too young to really remember, but we were like that your first couple months after your amputations,” he explained. “It was only after we spent some time with the patient advocate at the hospital that we started to understand that we had to refrain from helping you so that you could grow up with a sense independence. And since you were living with us when you were getting into the disability community, we learned everything that you did, but since Dean was an adult when he got injured, they didn’t have that experience.”

“Yeah, I understand it’s harder for them to understand disability things. It’s just still frustrating,” Aidan said with a shrug. “They’re really nice, other than that, so I can ignore it for the little bit of time they’re staying here.” He smiled widely. “I can barely believe that I’m moving in with Dean in a week. It’s going to be great.”

His parents both beamed. “We’re so happy for you two,” his mother enthused. “I still remember you as a little baby, and then how excited you were when you got your first real wheelchair, and now you have a Paralympic medal and you’re going to get married soon to a wonderful man.”

Aidan grinned widely, ducking his head a little. “I know,” he mumbled happily. “It’s great. I mean, Dean is… Dean is amazing, you know? He makes me so happy.”

“We can tell,” his father said, glad to see his son so sweetly delighted about his upcoming marriage. “I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful family, Aidan. Do you know what Dean thinks about children?”

“He’s not even married yet!” Aidan’s mother protested. “Give him time before he starts thinking of having children. Lord knows we both want grandchildren, but Aidan and Dean should be married for a little while before they start adopting babies left and right.”

The young man rolled his eyes. “Ma, you still make it sound like we’re going to adopt twenty kids. That’s a little excessive,” he teased. “Dean has talked about liking kids and wanting them, so I know we’ll have them. Probably kind of soon, since we both like kids.”

His father smiled widely. “Ah, so you have talked about children? That’s wonderful,” he said excitedly. “I’ve wanted grandchildren for a while now, but you weren’t exactly jumping to get married or anything, so I had lost hope.”

“Thanks, Da,” Aidan muttered sarcastically. “Good to know you had faith in me.” He smiled, though, and stretched his arms slowly. “I told you that you guys and Dean’s parents are on your own for dinner tomorrow night, right?”

“No,” his mother said, raising her eyebrows at her son.

Aidan bit his lip excitedly. “Orlando--he’s the British team coach, and he’s coaching my club--he invited me and Dean for dinner at his place to meet us before I start with the team next week!” He suddenly looked a little worried. “That’s okay, right? We could always try to reschedule or something. But, you know, it will give you time to get to know them, and you and Dean’s mum can talk about the wedding without me and Dean complaining.”

“Do you think you’re going to like Orlando?” his father asked curiously. Aidan worked hard in rugby, regardless of how well he got along with people, but having a coach he clicked with would push him to the next level.

The young brunet nodded. “He and his husband invited me and Dean over just to get to know us. I think that’s a good sign, you know?” He shrugged, still smiling happily. “I have a good feeling about the team.”

“Do you want some tea, honey?” his mother asked after a brief silence. Because the ferry took around two hours, there was a nice little café in the covered area. It was up a flight of stairs, however, so Aidan couldn’t get himself anything. When he nodded, his mother stood up and left to get tea for everyone, leaving the two men to sit and watch the water.

After a few moments of silence, the elder turned to the younger. “I know you won’t like this question, but, as your father, I have to ask. Are you ready for living with Dean? You guys have only spent weekends together for a year, and now you’re going to spend every moment outside of work together.”

Though he wasn’t happy that his father had to ask, Aidan understood why he did. “Yeah, I’m ready,” he answered, nodding. “He makes me really happy, Da. I know that it’s going to be different, but I’m okay with that. We’ve just been together on weekends and holidays, but I want to be able to go home and curl up with him after work, even if we’re both too tired to do much other than microwave leftovers or get some takeout.”

“Have you fought with him?” his father asked. “It’s going to happen eventually, and having your first fight after moving in together would--“

“We’ve fought,” Aidan interrupted. “It sucked, and I was definitely the asshole.” It hadn’t been a good night; Aidan had taken Thursday and Friday off to surprise Dean by being there a day early, and the older man had gotten home at nine, exhausted, to find the Irishman angry at having waited and sitting with a cold dinner. Dean had just wanted to sleep and had (rightly) pointed out that it wasn’t his fault since Aidan hadn’t told him, but Aidan was tired and angry that his surprise hadn’t worked out. They had yelled at each other and the younger man had slept on the couch before crawling into bed with Dean at seven in the morning, apologizing over and over. “Da, I know what I’m getting into. I thought long and hard before I asked him, because I know that marriage isn’t easy.” He smiled. “I would rather get frustrated sometimes because we’re both working and training and exhausted than not be with him.”

With a smile, his father nodded. “Good,” he said simply. “You love him, and you know it isn’t always simple. That’s all I needed to know.” He reached over and clapped his son on the shoulder briefly. “Dean is a sweet man, and he clearly loves you too. I can’t wait to see you two married.”

Aidan flushed the tiniest bit at the reminder of his upcoming marriage, but didn’t respond because his mother reappeared, pressing a warm cup into his hand. “Thanks, Ma,” he said, smiling at her before taking a sip of tea. “Do you have anything you want to do this weekend? I was thinking that today we can stay in the apartment so I can unpack while you and Dean’s parents get to know each other, and then we can do dinner at home or out. Tomorrow we can do anything else you want.”

“Well, we want to take you all out to dinner, so let’s eat at a restaurant tonight,” suggested his father. “We can see how we feel tomorrow before deciding what to do then.” He drank a little bit of his tea before drawing his family into a conversation about a book he had recently finished, and the ferry ride passed easily. The drive from the ferry station to London, however, was very boring, especially for Aidan. He turned on the stereo and settled into his car alone, happy that this would be the second-to-last weekend of weekly four and a half hour drives from Holyhead to London.

After he had gone through five CDs, he was finally at the apartment, pulling into a spot in the parking garage. His parents had arrived a minute earlier but were waiting for him to help him carry his boxes from the garage to the apartment itself.

“Babe!” Dean yelled happily when Aidan opened the door and rolled in. Like his fiancé, he had taken the day off, wanting to help Aidan get his stuff moved in. “Hey, I missed you,” he said, wheeling up to the brunet and giving him a kiss.

“Missed you too,” Aidan whispered, putting his box on the ground so he could lean forward and pull Dean in briefly. As soon as he released the New Zealander from his hug, his mother swooped in to hug him as well.

“You look great, Dean,” she said happily. “Where do you want us to put Aidan’s boxes? Your room?”

Aidan jumped in before Dean could answer. “They’re organized, Ma. The one you have is for the living room, but the others are for the bedroom.”

Before they could start to unpack, however, they began by introducing their parents to each other. “Mum? Dad? These are Aidan’s parents,” Dean said as he led his fiancé and his family into the living room where his parents sat.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Christine gushed, standing up to hug her son’s future in-laws.

Before Dean or Aidan could even register what was happening, their mothers were discussing wedding ideas and their fathers were discussing able-bodied rugby. Leaving the older couples to it, the athletes went into their bedroom to start unpacking Aidan’s stuff. “I’ll unpack your clothes if you do your other shit,” Dean suggested. The “other shit” that was referring to was mostly just knick-knacks, since Aidan already had all the toiletries he needed in the bathroom. He pulled open the box labeled “clothes only” and began to put sweaters, flannel, and jeans in the bottommost drawer of the dresser; summer clothing could go in the closet to be unpacked in a few months. In the drawer above the warm clothes, Dean unpacked athletic gear and underwear, trying to keep everything folded nicely. Once the clothes were put away, he relaxed in his chair to watch what Aidan pulled out of his box.

The younger man smiled as Dean watched him, and began to show his fiancé some of the more fun things he pulled out. “Check it out,” he said cheerfully, holding up an action figure. “It’s Professor X in a chair!” He placed it on top of the dresser as a decoration. He only had a few other things; he hadn’t needed things like his alarm clock, since Dean already had those, so he mostly pulled out pictures before getting to the summer clothing that took up maybe half the box. He put it in the closet--with only one dresser between the two of them, they were keeping only the essentials in the drawers.

After they finished, Dean made to leave the bedroom, but Aidan gently grabbed his arm. “Hey,” he whispered, wheeling up right next to the blond. “I missed you this week,” he said, pulling himself into Dean’s lap and giving him a kiss. “Just… can we stay in here a bit? Just us?”

Dean smiled, wrapping his stiff arms around Aidan. “Like I could say no to that,” he replied, kissing the Irishman’s neck before resting his head on the strong shoulder in front of him. “I don’t want you to go home this week. Can’t you just move here now?” he mumbled.

With a little laugh, Aidan shook his head, petting Dean’s hair. “If only,” he said softly. “It’s just one more week. I’ll be back late Friday night, babe, and then I really won’t have to back.” He grinned widely. “And the day after that your parents leave, and we’ll have this place all to ourselves.” He groaned softly. “We haven’t had sex in two weeks, Deano, and it’s another week til your parents leave. I’m going to be all over you,” he muttered.

Blushing a little at the knowledge that their parents were just a room away as Aidan talked about this, Dean nodded. “I know,” he whispered, kissing the younger man’s neck again. “We can go crazy, then, okay? All over the flat,” he teased, sitting up a little straighter. “Come on, though, we need to go hang out with our parents, and we should go to dinner early. You barely had anything for lunch.”

“My parents want to take us all out to dinner tonight, so we can leave in an hour,” Aidan suggested. It was 4:30, so an hour from then would be a little early but restaurants would be open. “I’m tired as fuck,” he added on a yawn as he slid from Dean’s warm lap back into his wheelchair. He followed the older man out to the living room and joined their parents.

“Are you two done unpacking?” Aidan’s mother asked in surprise. “Do you want help with the box here?” she asked, motioning towards the box she had brought in from the car.

Her son shook his head. “I’ll unpack it later,” he said, tiredness from getting up early catching up with him. “Maybe tomorrow,” he added. “Dean and I were saying maybe we should leave for dinner in an hour? The three of us barely had lunch, and I want to go to bed early anyway.”

“Sounds good,” his father said, nodding. “While you were unpacking, these two planned your whole weddings, I think. Want to hear about it?”

With a soft sigh, Dean put on a smile and nodded. “Sure,” he said, preparing to feign enthusiasm for things like centerpieces and flowers for the next hour.


	19. Dinner at Orlando's

“I’m horny,” Aidan whispered to Dean as they lay in bed. “Just, you know, in case you were wondering,” he added, grinning as he turned onto his side and nipped at the older man’s ear.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know,” he answered. “You’ve told me like five times this evening.” He wasn’t exaggerating; twice during dinner, once during the ride home, and twice in the shower, Aidan had leaned over to whisper to his fiancé just how much he wanted him after two weeks of celibacy. “Babe, I’d love to, ‘cause God knows sex with you is amazing, but my parents are in the next room.”

“But I want to,” Aidan whined, laughing as he buried his face in the blond man’s neck. “Fine, but I want to have as much sex as possible as soon as they leave next Saturday, okay?” He rubbed a hand over Dean’s arm, feeling the tight muscle beneath the skin. “Do you need some stretches?” he asked, massaging and noticing that the normally spastic muscle was even more firm than usual.

“That would be great,” Dean answered gratefully. “My baclofen pump is getting low, so I’m going to be more spastic ‘til I get it refilled on Wednesday.” He laughed softly. “My mum already told me she’s going with me. I’ve had the pump for six years and she still doesn’t get that getting it refilled isn’t a real surgery.”

“If I were going to be here this week, I’d make sure to go with you too,” Aidan pointed out. “It’s still a needle going into you. It’s not fun, and you shouldn’t have to go alone.” He traced a finger over the thick surgical scar on Dean’s stomach from where the baclofen pump had been implanted years before. “Have you had the battery changed yet? I read about them after you told me you have one, and the site I found said they last four to seven years.”

“Nah, I have to get it changed in the next year or so,” Dean explained. “That actually is a surgery, so, you know, that one I’ll need you for.” He sighed. “I should get that done soon, though. I want to be able to plan it around my training schedule. And, you know, if we have kids, I want to have the surgery before we have ‘em, since recovering from surgery while you have a baby is probably not the best idea.” He grinned, turning his neck to look at his fiancé. “Not to push it, but I was thinking that we should maybe start looking into adoption before the wedding? I want our kid to be at least a year old when we go to Tokyo…”

Aidan kissed Dean’s nose, smiling brightly. “That sounds really good to me,” he said. “Once I move in, we can start talking to some adoption lawyers. We can ask Orlando and his husband which lawyer they used. Their son is four, I think, but their lawyer is still probably working.”

The blond beamed. “That would be awesome,” he enthused. He snuggled up close to the younger man. “You have any thoughts about kids? Like if you want a boy or a girl, or anything like that?”

“I want a boy who has a disability,” Aidan answered, smiling at the thought. “A lot of disabled kids don’t get adopted as babies like able-bodied ones do, and we’d be able to understand a disabled kid’s difficulties better than able-bodied parents.” He pulled the blankets up higher over their bodies and yawned. “We’re going to have such great kids,” he mumbled happily, letting his eyes slip shut.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed quietly, watching as Aidan relaxed toward sleep. “We really are.”

* * *

The following evening, Dean and Aidan arrived at a pretty split-level house, with a small metal ramp bridging the single step into the building. Aidan went up the ramp first and rang the doorbell; there was only room for one wheelchair on the stoop. It was only a few seconds before the door opened, and a small boy looked out at Aidan. “Hi!” he chirruped excitedly. “Are you Aidan?” he asked loudly.

“Yes, I am,” Aidan said, smiling. “May we come in?”

“Flynn!” came a scolding voice. “You know you aren’t allowed to answer the door without me or tu papá,” Orlando continued as he came into the front hallway. “Hi, Aidan,” he added, smiling. “Go in and help Papi, okay?” he said quietly to his son, watching him toddle off before wheeling back from the doorway a bit so the two toerh men could come into the house. “Dean, right? I’m Orlando,” he said, sticking out his hand when the New Zealander rolled in.

Dean shook the proffered hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Your son is cute, even if he does open the door without supervision.”

The Brit laughed. “Yeah, he’s not the best listener,” he said, leading them into the kitchen. “Vig?” he said, waiting til his husband looked up before he continued. “This is Aidan, who’s going to be playing on my team, and his fiancé, Dean,” he said. “Guys, this is my husband, Viggo. He’s a good cook, so he’s in charge of all this.”

The three men exchanged greetings, and then Dean was distracted by a curious face next to his arm. “Hi,” he said, smiling. “I’m Dean.”

“M’Flynn,” the little boy informed him. “Why is your wheelchair funny?”

The New Zealander smiled. “It’s a power chair,” he explained. “It uses electricity. I have a manual one, like your dad has, but my arms are stiff today so I decided to use the power chair.” He pointed over toward his fiancé. “Aidan has a manual wheelchair, see?”

Flynn nodded. “My daddy has a wheelchair ‘cause he’s para-mized,” he said seriously. “Are you para-mized?”

“Flynn, sabes que esa pregunta es grosera,” Viggo said in a warning tone. “¿Recuerdes nuestra conversación despues de la reunión del equipo de Daddy?” he asked, voice dropping back into his American accent on the last word. “Sorry, he’s not great on manners right now,” he said, switching to English to talk to Dean. “He’s curious, and doesn’t have a filter.”

Dean just smiled. “He’s a kid,” he replied. “Kids aren’t the best at filters. I am paralyzed,” he explained to Flynn. “I can’t move or feel my legs at all, but I can move and feel my arms some.” He stretched them out as far as they could go as a demonstration. “Usually they move farther, but they hurt right now.”

“Are they ‘pastic?” Flynn asked curiously, surprising Dean with his vocabulary.

The New Zealander nodded. “Yeah, they are.”

“My legs and arms are ‘pastic too,” the toddler announced. “I have…” he paused, giving himself time to sound out the familiar but difficult words, “cerebral palsy,” he finished slowly. “But I can walk but you can’t,” he added in confusion.

“That’s because I am paralyzed,” Dean explained. “See, being paralyzed is what makes my arms and legs spastic, so even if they weren’t spastic, I wouldn’t walk. I take medicine to make them less spastic.”

“Oh. Cool,” Flynn said happily, and then got distracted by the smell of food and ended up bounding away to “help” his older father with making dinner.

“Mm, Orlando, we were actually wondering if you could give us some information on a good adoption lawyer,” Aidan said, smiling a little shyly. “We want to get a head start on the process before our wedding, since we want our kid not to be a baby by the time Tokyo comes around, you know?”

The rugby coach grinned widely. “You’re thinking of kids? That’s brilliant! I can definitely give you the phone number of the lawyer we used, who was really nice. It took a couple tries to get a lawyer who was good with having two dads and one with a disability, but this guy is great.”

“Do you think we could adopt a baby with a disability?” Dean asked. “I know it can be hard to convince them you’re fit for parenting or whatever, but, I mean, you guys have Flynn, and he--“

“Flynn has a bit of CP, yeah, and nobody said anything about it being a problem for us,” Orlando said. “I think their first line of questioning will be to make sure that you are financially able to take care of a kid with a disability, but I think if you’ve got references, including doctors and stuff, you should be okay,” he explained. “It’s a long process, but you actually go through it a bit faster if you adopt a disabled kid, since they don’t get adopted as often so there isn’t as much of a waiting list.”

Viggo leaned over the counter to talk to them. “We managed to adopt Flynn within a year,” he told them. “If you start now, you’ll be able to have a kid almost as soon as straight couples can make them.” At the sound of a bowl falling, he turned back. “No es problema,” he said cheerfully when Flynn began to apologize loudly. “¿Era accidente, no?”

Dean smiled as he watched the little boy stand up on a stool to help his older father stir a pot on the stove--heavily supervised, of course. “Is your husband from Spain?” he asked Orlando curiously. “Or South America?”

“Neither,” the Englishman replied. “He’s Danish-American, but grew up in Argentina,” he explained. “We decided it makes sense for him to speak Spanish with Flynn, since that way he’ll grow up with two languages. And it makes Viggo happy to talk to his kid in Spanish,” he added, grinning as he watched his husband and son chat happily. “Here, let me grab you our lawyer’s card, before I forget.” He wheeled over to the counter and began to leaf through a stack of papers. After half a minute of looking, he crowed in triumph. “Here you go! Karl is really nice. Mention that we told you about him, and he’ll know before you even come in for you appointment that you two are either gay or disabled.”

“Thanks so much,” Aidan said, pocketing the business card, glad to have a lead on adoption. Dean could call in the coming week so they could have an appointment relatively soon after Aidan moved in; though it was still two and a half years til Tokyo, they still needed to plan ahead so they could have a baby and let him grow up at least past one year before they went to Japan to compete.

“Keep us updated on how it’s going,” Viggo added from behind the counter. “We’ll be happy to help in any way we can. It’s a hard process and it can get really frustrating sometimes, so, you know, let us know if you need anything.”

Flynn was put to bed before dinner really started, but an hour into the meal, when Orlando and Aidan were in a deep discussion about rugby plays and Dean and Viggo were talking about art, the little boy appeared by his older father’s elbow. “¿Papi?” he said quietly.

“¿Sí?”

“No puedo dormirme,” Flynn said, a bit of a whine creeping into his voice. “Quiero sentarme contigo,” he added, giving the American a sad look. “¿Por favor?”

“Do you mind?” Viggo asked Dean. “He said he can’t sleep and wants to sit with me,” he added, realizing he needed to explain the Spanish. “I’d put him back to bed, but I think hearing us all talking just a couple rooms down from his bedroom makes it hard for him to settle down.”

Dean nodded. “Go for it,” he answered simply. “Do you go to school yet?” he asked the young boy, once he was seated comfortably in his father’s lap.

“Yep!” Flynn answered proudly. “I go every morning!”

“Wow,” Dean said, schooling his features into a properly impressed expression. “Do you like school? I loved school when I was your age.”

Flynn made a face. “I don’t like the stretches.”

“He’s in a preschool for physically disabled kids that combines regular preschool things with physical and occupational therapy,” Viggo explained over the toddler’s head, seeing Dean’s confused expression. “Physical therapy takes patience, and that is not Flynn’s strong suit.” He dropped a kiss onto his son’s forehead. “He’s like his Daddy in that way,” he added, making the little boy giggle.

Dean smiled at the show of affection between father and son. That sort of love was what he hoped he and Aidan would have with a toddler in a few years. “How old was he when you adopted him?” he asked Viggo softly.

“Eleven months,” Viggo answered. “We were originally planning to adopt a newborn, but Flynn was so cute, and we couldn’t bear the thought of him being passed up by couple after couple. You don’t remember, do you?” he asked his son. “You couldn’t say any words, but you liked to yell. You didn’t walk yet, but you kept trying to grab me and your Daddy when we were sitting near you and your ball.” His tone clearly showed how fondly he remembered it all.

“That’s great,” Dean murmured, encouraged by the story of a successful adoption. Though he tried not to get stressed about things that hadn’t even occurred yet, the New Zealander had read a couple articles all about the horror stories where disabled parents got their children taken away. “You got lucky with your dads,” he told Flynn, grinning.

“They’re okay,” Flynn said, making both Viggo and Dean laugh. “Papi, tengo hambre,” he added, pulling at his older father’s shirt.

“Okay,” the American man said, cutting up a bit of his fish. “Puedes comer eso.” He smiled. “¿Quieres saber algo? Te quiero.”

Flynn just smiled and ate his fish happily.


	20. The Final Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been about seven billion years since I last updated any of my writing. Sorry! I've started oral baclofen (a version of the drug Dean has in his pump!) and it causes severe drowsiness. Like I fall asleep constantly. Between that and the gym, I tend not to have tons of free time. But I just threw out my back on a really bad transfer, so I'll be back to posting more until that heals :) Hope you enjoy this chapter, in which Aidan finally fully moves in with Dean in London!

Dean was, regretfully, still in the hospital when Aidan arrived in London with the last of his things. The younger man simply dumped his boxes off at the apartment before driving over to the hospital to visit his fiancé. “Hey, babe,” he said softly as he wheeled into the room, happy to see the New Zealander lying awake, if rather obviously groggy. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Dean muttered, turning his head to look at Aidan. “Got my mum to leave, though. She was driving me up the wall.” He grimaced a little as he shifted. “They stopped giving me the good drugs, and since it’s on my right I can feel the pain.” He pouted a little, clearly wanting some sympathy from the younger man.

Obligingly, Aidan moved over to the bed and pushed himself as far up as possible in order to kiss the blond gently. “I thought you just had a refill of your pump. Why are you still here and on drugs?” he asked worriedly.

“There was a kink in the tubing from the pump to my spine, so they had to go in and straighten it out. I can come home in two days,” the older man explained. “I expect you to be totally moved in and have everything clean when I get there,” he added, smiling weakly. “I’m going to be off training for a few weeks, so I’ll have more free time. I can help you with putting stuff away.”

“Thanks, but I should be able to put stuff away over the weekend,” Aidan assured his fiancé. Visiting hours end at ten, but you look like you’ll pass out before that. I’ll make dinner for your parents and then move my stuff in. It should be clean and organized by the time you come home on Sunday.”

Dean nodded through a yawn, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Can you get up on here with me to cuddle for a bit?” he asked hopefully, grinning when the Irishman pulled himself up onto the bed and curled up with him, careful to avoid getting near the still-healing surgical incision. “Thanks, babe. I love you,” he mumbled into Aidan’s shoulder as he let his head fall onto the younger man. “You can leave when I fall asleep,” he added.

“Okay,” Aidan whispered, kissing Dean’s hair softly. “I’ll be back tomorrow, though, yeah? I’ll bring your parents around and maybe some food. You can eat regular food, right?” he asked, glad to get a nod. “I’ll make you something good and bring it for you.”

“That’d be nice,” Dean slurred out softly, clearly barely awake. “Yeah. Bring pasta and a salad.”

After a moment, Aidan glanced over at the older man, whispering his name a couple times without a response before carefully scooting away and getting back into his wheelchair. It was seven in the evening, and he was hungry and sure that the O’Gorman parents were too. He wheeled out of the hospital and to his car before driving back to the apartment, humming along with the radio as he mentally composed a grocery list.

“Hi, Aidan!” Christine said cheerfully as her future son-in-law rolled into the apartment. “We’ve got some carrots and chicken in the oven. It’s not much, but we’re a little tired and trying to save up our energy to pack up.”

“Sounds great,” Aidan said sincerely, pushing his various boxes out of the way to get to the kitchen more easily. “I promised Dean I’d make him some food to take tomorrow, so I might do that after dinner before I start unpacking. I’m… I’m not looking forward to unpacking,” he added with a rueful grin. “I promised pasta and salad. Do we have groceries in there I’ll need, or should I head to the store?”

Lance opened the refrigerator and glanced in. “I think we have it all,” he answered. “Anyway, dinner’s almost ready, so even if we need to get more food, we’ll do it later. Come to the table and take a break, Aid. You moved from Ireland today, and visited Dean, and you still have to cook and unpack your things. Just sit still, drink some wine, and eat your supper.”

Knowing that he was outnumbered, and that Lance was right, Aidan wheeled over to the table and poured himself a glass of wine. “Thanks for making dinner,” he said, smiling as he watched his future in-laws pull things from the oven and put them on a platter to serve up. “I’m starved. I didn’t have time to grab lunch between finishing up my last half-day at work and catching the ferry and all the driving…” He sighed tiredly. “Moving is tough. When do you want to see Dean tomorrow? We can all go together.”

“We can go around lunchtime,” Christine suggested, placing the platter of food on the table as her husband gathered up serving utensils. “That way we can cook in the morning instead of tonight, and we can help you finish unpacking.”

“I’ll do my own unpacking,” Aidan said quickly, internally wincing at the idea of Dean’s parents finding anything inappropriate in his boxes. He was pretty sure there was something inappropriate in his stuff, even if he couldn’t think of anything specific. “It’s better for me to unpack things myself, since that way I know I can reach everything easily,” he added in explanation. “If other people put things away, even at a good level, sometimes it’s out of my reach, and sometimes I can reach further than other people think. I’ll unpack right after dinner, and you two can watch a movie or something.”

After arriving at the table, Lance began to put servings of chicken and carrots on all the plates. “Well, we won’t help if you don’t need it. We may go to bed early, since we’re trying to get a little switched over since we fly home on Sunday night. We’re sorry to be leaving, but I’m sure that you two might decide you want to be alone at the start of living together.”

 _That’s an understatement,_ Aidan thought privately.

* * *

In his and Dean’s bedroom, Aidan put down his final two boxes and rolled his rugby chair into the corner, next to Dean’s manual. Though he had moved in some fun things the previous weekend, along with a lot of his clothes, he had underestimated how much was left to bring. He didn’t have any furniture, thanks to living in a pre-furnished apartment, but he still had various _things_ that had been lying around at his place. He put his laptop on the bed and turned on a bit of music, careful to keep it down since Dean’s parents were already in bed. Bobbing along to the music, he opened one box and just dove in, pulling things out slowly and putting them away.

Ties and suits for work went into the empty space left in the drawer. Medications went onto the bathroom counter. Extra tires and caster wheels were set aside to be put in the room in which Dean’s parents were staying, after they left. Blushing and thanking God he had insisted on doing this alone, Aidan shoved a dildo, some condoms, and lube into a drawer, and then put some of his favorite books onto the shelf. With the first box empty, he broke it down and started on the second one.

Aidan was happily surprised that it only took thirty minutes to unpack, since he had been dreading it so much. Things didn’t look perfect, and Dean might want to move some stuff around once he got home, but things were away. He went out of the apartment briefly to put the cardboard in the building’s recycling dumpster, and then came back in to take a shower and go to bed.

* * *

“I thought they would never fucking leave,” Dean muttered, grinning at Aidan after shutting the apartment door behind his leaving parents. “They’re great and all but I am living with you now and I want it to be just us. No, I need it to be just us. I need some time to adjust to full-time cohabitation and all. Plus two weeks with my parents is more than I can handle.” He paused. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Aidan laughed and shook his head. “I’m pretty sure all adults feel that way. In uni, I’d go home for a break and starting disliking my family within three days.” He turned his wheelchair around to wheel down the hall to the kitchen. “Let’s make dinner, okay? You still look tired from surgery.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, Aid. Really,” he assured the younger man. “I mean, yeah, I’m going to sleep a lot over the next few days, but I’m genuinely okay. In three weeks, I’ll be completely back to normal, including training. And sex,” he added with a grin. “Sorry for fucking over my body right before my parents left and we had a chance for actual sex.”

“I’m just happy they found the kink in the tubing,” Aidan said honestly as he opened the refrigerator and started to paw through the contents to get an idea of what to make for dinner. “Some of my teammates told me about how bad baclofen withdrawal is, and I wouldn’t want you to go through that.” He pulled out a head of lettuce, a tomato, leftover baked chicken, and bleu cheese. “Salad okay?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Dean.

The New Zealander nodded. “Sounds good. Yeah, baclofen withdrawal is shit, but if you looked it up or anything, it sounds scarier than it is. I know the internet says the withdrawal can kill you, but the worst I’ve had is that my spasticity comes back to its most severe.” He wheeled over to the counter near Aidan. “Need me to cut anything up?” he asked, ready to help if need be.

“Can you do the tomato?” the brunet requested, putting the red fruit down on the counter along with a cutting board and a sharp knife. He knew that Dean would take a while to cut the tomato, since it required a fair amount of coordination to chop up something round. However, Aidan could do everything else in that time--wash and tear the lettuce, crumble the bleu cheese, and slice the chicken. Anyway, Dean liked to do things that challenged his fine motor skills; the older man much preferred working on motor skills practically at home to going to occupational therapy or other boring exercises.

“On it,” Dean replied, carefully picking up the knife and positioning it in his right hand for the best grip. “Tomato is being cut.” His left hand, completely folded up and closed as always, pushed carefully against the tomato to steady it. “Oh man, I have been getting help from my parents for the last two weeks and it is really showing,” he muttered as the tomato rolled across the board before he could get a slice. As much as he loved his parents, Dean disliked how they tended to jump in and do things for him without asking; his motor skills suffered when he didn’t use them constantly. Only two weeks off from his usual life, and he was chasing a tomato around the counter.

“You’ll be back to normal soon, babe,” Aidan assured him as he rinsed off the lettuce. “Do you want something to prop the tomato against so that it doesn’t roll away?” he asked, careful to offer a solution for Dean to do it himself rather than offering to do it for the older man. “Eh, I don’t mean that. If you want something to prop it against, do it yourself,” he amended, smiling and turning to kiss Dean’s cheek. “Fuck help, you’ve got five gold medals. You don’t need me helping you.”

Dean laughed softly and pulled a nearby bowl over to balance the tomato against as he started chopping again. While the cubes of tomato didn’t turn out perfectly even, and looked nearly chewed up from rough knife slices, the job was done without any help, and so the blond was happy. “Got everything else ready?” he asked as he finished his last couple pieces.

Aidan nodded, tossing the last of the pieces of chicken on top of the mix of lettuce and crumbled bits of bleu cheese. As Dean dropped the tomato pieces into the bowl as well, the younger man pulled a bottle of salad dressing from the refrigerator and tossed the finished salad with a few tablespoons of it. “Finally,” he said as he put the bowl on his lap and followed Dean to the table, “our first dinner alone while we live together. It’s nice.”


	21. Surgery Recovery = Celebtration

“I’m dying,” Dean proclaimed dramatically as he and Luke entered the apartment and headed into the kitchen, where Aidan was working at the table.

“Hm?” Aidan mumbled, not looking up from the spreadsheet on his laptop. He still had work to do, but he had wanted to get home instead of staying at the office. When he was home before Dean, Luke could leave right away and they could do everything themselves in the evening.

“I’m dying,” the older man repeated, tone still dramatic. “I trained for the first time since my surgery, and I had to coach the teenagers today. They’re all so… hormonal and obnoxious. I mean, so many of them work hard and are doing great and I like them a lot, but I did not have the energy for them today.” He wheeled up close to Aidan, careful to keep his heavy power chair from hitting his fiancé’s smaller manual one, and kissed the younger man’s neck. “How was work today?”

Aidan tore his eyes from the spreadsheet and turned to peck at Dean’s lips. “Long,” he answered tiredly. “Hey, Luke,” he added, glancing over Dean’s shoulder at the Welshman. “We’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course. Have a good night,” Luke answered, smiling. “Call if you need anything.” He said that every night, though he had only been called once thus far, and it had been a weeknight before Aidan moved in and Dean was alone and had gotten sick. “Bye, guys,” he added before he left the apartment, locking the door behind himself.

Aidan slouched down in his chair, giving up on his spreadsheet and closing his laptop before leaning into Dean. “We should make dinner, shouldn’t we?” he asked through a yawn. “And then maybe we could celebrate your recovery from surgery?” he suggested, grinning a little. “You know, in the bedroom?”

“Yeah, I figured that was what you meant,” Dean replied, smiling and leaning in to give Aidan another kiss. “We’ll see. You look beyond tired, and I don’t think that I could handle the emotional scarring from my fiancé falling asleep in the middle of sex.”

The younger man laughed and pulled himself into Dean’s lap, careful not to put weight on the blond man’s upper body and thus pull him over. “You’re far too good in bed for me to fall asleep during sex,” he assured the Kiwi. “In fact, you’re too good in bed, in the shower, in your chair…” he trailed off. “Ooh, in your chair, here in the kitchen. I bet you’re great in that combination. Like now,” he clarified, just in case Dean didn’t get his rather obvious insinuations. He ground down against the older man’s groin firmly; being gentle with Dean didn’t do anything, because he needed firm stimulation to feel or react. “In fact, I bet right now you would be better than ever. We’re living together, we’re going to get married and have a kid, and your parents left and you recovered from surgery… that’s a good combination for hot sex, you know.”

Though he knew what was happening was ridiculous, Dean was too busy groaning softly to laugh at the situation. “Jesus, Aid,” the older man gasped after a moment. “Are you seriously… here? Now?”

“Here, now,” Aidan confirmed. “Okay, entertain yourself for, like, two seconds, and I’m going to get condoms and lube. Yeah, just… I don’t know, touch yourself?”

Dean laughed as Aidan slid from his lap. “Your sexy talk leaves a lot to be desired, babe,” he called softly as he watched Aidan wheel himself to the bedroom quickly. “You’d better come back fast, or I’ll get distracted and bored and make dinner instead,” he teased, smirking as Aidan seemed to speed up. He began to carefully pull of his t-shirt, making sure he didn’t get stuck or twist an arm weirdly, as the former would break the mood with laughter, and the latter might put an end to the activities by necessitating stretches and heating pads.

Luckily, he managed to get his shirt off without any problems and was working a little on his pants by the time Aidan came back. “Ooh, you’re already getting naked. Excellent,” the younger man said happily, helping Dean drag his track pants down to mid-thigh, just enough to expose his cock and balls.

“That’s all we’re doing?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. “Tonight is not our classiest night, is it?” He smirked, though, as Aidan took off his own clothes and climbed back on top of him.

“Taking off your pants all the way would take way too long,” Aidan explained, wedging the lube and condom in the tight space between Dean’s hip and the side of his wheelchair. “Come on, don’t tell me you aren’t into it.”

Dean wrapped one arm around Aidan’s waist. “I’m definitely into it,” he admitted, leaning into his fiancé and giving him a kiss. “You are very, very attractive,” he mumbled, moving his mouth down to suck and nip at the younger man’s neck. “Especially when you’re on top of me,” he added, groaning when Aidan ground down against him hard enough for him to really feel the stimulation—and hard enough for his cock to react. “You should be on top of me more often,” he teased, pushing on Aidan’s hips from behind to grind them together.

Gasping, the brunet nodded and ran his hand down Dean’s chest, paying more attention to the areas that he knew were the most pleasantly sensitive for him. “I plan to be,” Aidan grunted, pushing his hips into Dean’s harder. “Fucking hell, Dean, it has been about a million years since we did this. I goddamn missed it,” he muttered, sliding his hand away from the right side of his fiancé’s chest down to squeeze a little lube onto it and use it grip Dean’s half-hard erection to pump it to full hardness. Once it was hard, he moved it behind him to work on opening himself up. “I am going to ride you so damn hard,” he told Dean, using his right arm to pull the older man into a heated kiss.

Dean was panting hard by the time that Aidan broke away from the kiss. “Well, you’re certainly excited,” he teased, but his eyes burned with desire as he watched the Irishman’s face. The fine features were twisting around in pure pleasure, but they both knew it was going to get better. “You ready yet?” he asked hopefully. He grinned widely when the younger man nodded and pulled his hand from inside himself and reached for a condom. “We’re going to do away with that shit after our wedding, right?” he asked hopefully. “I won’t feel anything more, but you might, right?”

Concentrated on rolling the condom onto Dean’s cock, Aidan smiled while sort of listening. “I’m definitely up for you coming inside me,” he informed the older man as he spread some extra lube onto his cock. “But for now, I just want to get fucked,” he added bluntly, holding onto the back of Dean’s chair with his shorter arm in order to pull himself onto his leg stumps and using his hand to keep the cock beneath him steady. “Holy shit,” he gasped as he slowly sank down. “Oh, my God. I missed this so much,” he added, leaning forward and biting into Dean’s shoulder as he let his body adjust.

For Dean, the sensation was dulled but still wonderful. “I never want to have surgery again,” he muttered, making Aidan laugh. “Recovery is a bitch. I like sex too much for that bullshit.”

Aidan nodded and began to rock gently. “Is this enough?” he teased, huffing out another brief laugh as Dean rolled his eyes. Gentle was never enough for Dean to actually get off, and Aidan was all about pleasing both of them. He gripped the back of Dean’s wheelchair hard with his left hand and his right elbow and began to move himself up and down with a purpose, bouncing on the older man’s lap and working to squeeze his internal muscles to improve the experience for his fiancé. “Good?” he gasped out.

“Really good,” Dean assured him breathlessly, his right hand opening a little as he pressed it against Aidan’s back. “Yeah, that’s great,” he added when the younger man sped up. “God, Aid, I love you,” he mumbled, kissing all the skin he could reach with his mouth.

“Love you too,” Aidan hissed, adjusting his angle and causing himself to shake with pleasure as Dean’s erection hit his prostate hard. “Oh my God! Fuck, Dean, I’m… fuck,” he cried out, unable to finish a coherent thought. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, babe.”

Dean gasped as Aidan tightened around him, clearly enjoying himself. “You too,” he replied, his free hand reaching up to grab the younger man’s hair as well as possible. “You’re so tight, Aid. God, you’re so… so…” He realized he had no idea how to finish his sentence, so he began to kiss as Aidan’s neck and jaw again.

The Irishman was too distracted by pleasure to notice Dean’s inability to complete his thought. He slid his hand down his own chest, tweaking his nipples briefly on the way before he grabbed his cock and began to stroke it. “How close are you, Deano?” he grunted, pulling his neck from the older man’s mouth so he could nibble the other man’s neck instead. He was close on his own, but Dean frequently needed a little more, and he was happy, as always, to do whatever his fiancé needed.

“Pretty close,” Dean said after a moment of focusing on his body. “You about to shoot like a teenager?” he asked, smirking before a sharp, retaliatory bite made his cry out, shuddering a bit when the younger man soothed it with kisses and tongue. After paralysis, his neck had become sensitive due to it having full feeling. “Mm, it’s okay if you are,” he added, happy to feel Aidan tighten around him. “I’m always happy to get you off.”

Aidan removed his mouth from Dean’s neck and rested his head on the older man’s shoulder as he continued to bob up and down. “Want you to come too,” he panted, consciously working to make his body as tight as he could. “M’not about to get all selfish,” he explained with a huff of laughter. “I can wait a couple minutes til you catch up with me.”

Smirking, Dean replied, “I might not need two minutes.” He was getting close surprisingly quickly, probably due to a lack of sex in the last month, and he wasn’t averse to letting himself go rather than trying to last. After all, if they were both close, there was no need to wait; they had been together for long enough that there was no need to try to impress the other. “Come on, babe, get yourself off on me,” he muttered, watching Aidan’s face as the younger man stroked himself quickly while riding Dean roughly. “That’s it. You look so great…” he trailed off into a groan as his fiancé’s quick movements made his own body shiver in pleasure.

“Like that?” Aidan gasped, his arm clutching the back of Dean’s wheelchair for leverage as he rose up and slammed down. “God, Dean. I’m… I’m…” He cried out wordlessly as he gave himself another few strokes and began to come, still moving as he rode out his orgasm and tried to give Dean one.

The older man tipped his head back, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the sensation of Aidan’s body squeezing his erection, and the knowledge that the younger man’s semen was painting his stomach as he gasped and groaned above him. “Aidan!” he cried out softly, wishing he could thrust up. “Just… one more minute?” he gasped, practically yelling when Aidan continued to bounce on him, even as he grunted from overstimulation. “That’s… that’s it… I love you, come on, Aidan!” he groaned, biting his lip as he came hard in the condom, right hand grasping the skin of the younger man’s back as his fingernails dug into a patch of pale skin.

Aidan’s head dropped onto Dean’s shoulder as he worked to catch his breath. “Oh geez,” he mumbled into the sweaty skin beneath his lips. “Good news is we’re still good at that,” he added with grin. “Want me to make dinner for you now?”

Dean laughed softly. “Oh man, yes,” he mumbled. “I’m tired as fuck. But shouldn’t we clean off a bit first?”

“Well, yeah,” Aidan replied, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to just hop off your lap and start up some food. I’ll get a washcloth and clean us up, we can get dressed again, and _then_ I’ll cook something. I’m being a polite man. Even if I didn’t wash us off, you should just be happy I didn’t fall asleep right away.”

The New Zealander snorted. “High standards,” he teased. “But yeah, that sounds good. Can you make a salad with that leftover chicken from the other night?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I love you.”

“You too, you demanding man.”


	22. Shit Gets Exciting, Y'all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't goddamn resist. So, you know, sorry not sorry, in comes the fluff.

“I’m going to be honest,” Karl said bluntly. “Orlando and Viggo had a way easier time compared to what you two will go through. It’s gotten easier for gay couples to adopt since marriage passed, but it’s still not as easy as it is for straight couples. Orlando is paraplegic, yeah, but Viggo is fully able-bodied and pretty freaking well-off from movies. I’m sure you two are truly fit to be parents, because you don’t seem the type to try if you weren’t, but it will take a lot of interviews and home visits and all sorts of things for social services to believe that two disabled men can fully provide and care for a child.”

Dean sighed. “And quadriplegia is, obviously, more severe than paraplegic. They’ll probably ask why you don’t have prosthetics, babe,” he added to Aidan.

The younger man shrugged. “I know,” he said simply. “And I will explain how steady I am in a chair, how comfortable I feel, and that my chair gives me a lot of balance that I wouldn’t necessarily have if I got prosthetics now. I have been in a wheelchair for twenty years, and I’ve taken care of baby cousins while in it.”

Karl smiled. “You’re already great at this,” he informed the Irishman. “Now, Mr. O’Gorman, do you have an idea of what you’ll explain to social services.”

“You can call me Dean. The ‘Mr. O’Gorman’ stuff feels weird,” the blond replied before answering the question. “So, while our kid is very young, I’m going to keep my personal care assistant full-time. I’ll partly work from home, with Luke--that’s my PCA--helping me with the baby, and when I train and coach, Luke will be sort of a nanny. My hand function is sufficient to change nappies, provided they use adhesive, and I will use my power chair rather than my manual so I can put the baby in a little chest holder to carry them around.”

The dark-haired lawyer looked impressed. “You two are acing these explanations.”

With a grin, Aidan explained, “We practiced last night.” He paused for a moment, gathering the courage to ask the question he so desperately wanted a positive answer for. “Could we adopt a disabled child? We… we have the financial resources, and a kid in a wheelchair would be able to learn skills by watching rather than occupational therapy, and we could relate to and understand their difficulties better than an able-bodied parent,” he finished.

“I think if you can prove the financial and physical ability, and give that sort of spin, you _may_ be able to,” Karl said hesitantly. “There is no guarantee, and it is going to be a tough battle, but it is, theoretically, possible. As I said, this whole process is going to be hard on you guys. Orlando taught me about ‘ableism’ and that is going to be big here. There is an assumption that you two are less fit than able-bodied individuals.”

“I’m hoping Paralympic medals will help,” Dean admitted. “I mean, we are clearly strong and have put a lot of work into pushing our bodies to do difficult things.”

“Especially Dean,” Aidan added. “He has five gold medals, and getting them meant a lot of increased flexibility and movement. Doing rugby made me stronger, but racing actually improved a lot of Dean’s coordination.” He grinned. “Can you tell I’m proud of him?” he asked jokingly.

Karl smiled. “Clearly,” he answered. “I think that will help a little, but it won’t put you on the same level as able-bodied people, in terms of assumed competency. Are you two planning on adopting an infant or finding an expectant mother and adopting the child pre-birth?”

“I think it all depends,” Dean answered thoughtfully. “If we’re approved to adopt a disabled child, we’d either adopt an already born infant, or find a woman who is putting a baby with a confirmed disability, like a congenital limb deficiency, so that we are the parents from birth. I really want to be able to name our kid.”

“You’ll be able to change your child’s name, especially if you adopt an infant,” Karl interjected.

“Awesome,” Dean said. “But if we can’t adopt a disabled child, I would definitely prefer adopting from someone who has yet to have the baby. We want to be the child’s parents from the earliest point possible.”

Karl nodded along. “Well, I’ll get in touch with a few adoption agencies so that they can contact you to start the approval process. If you have any questions, send me an email,” he said, handing his business card to Aidan. “Once you hear about the result of the approval process--whichever way it goes--from any agency, call the office and we’ll have another meeting. It was wonderful to meet you both,” he finished, standing and shaking hands with each man in turn. “Good luck with the start of the process.”

“Thank you, Mr. Urban,” Aidan said as they left the office. Once they were in the elevator, heading down to the lobby, he turned to his fiancé. “That wasn’t bad,” he commented. “We already knew it wouldn’t be easy, and as nice as it would have been to hear it would be simply and we could adopt any child without a long process with social services, it would have been a lie. We’ll go through the process, and we can prove how capable we are, babe, okay?”

Dean nodded, though he was clearly still pessimistic about their chances. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And… I know I’m really into this, but I want you to know that if we can’t have kids, it’s okay. I’d rather marry you and be childless than marry someone else and have a kid, you know?” He sighed. “It just sucks to know that if we don’t get approved, it’s because of me. Don’t say it isn’t,” he added quickly when the brunet opened his mouth. “We both know it. People always assume that quadriplegics are inherently incompetent and needing a PCA doesn’t help my case.”

“Hey,” Aidan said firmly as the elevator doors opened and they left the lobby. “Knowing you need a PCA full-time with a kid is responsible, and it some ways it’s just a precaution. Don’t you dare sell yourself short, Deano. You were told you would never feel or move below your neck, and you went on to become a Paralympian. You move your arms and they are fast and strong. Come on, gorgeous, you know you’re perfect the way you are.” He used the armrest of Dean’s chair to swing around and kiss the older man.

“Only to you,” Dean muttered, but his smile was genuine.

* * *

“Mr. Turner, Mr. O’Gorman,” greeted a small woman named Deborah. “Thank you for agreeing to another house visit. You two are looking great so far from your forms, interviews, and other house visits, but we want to know a bit more about how you’ll be caring for your child.”

Aidan was pleased to note that there had been no “if” in that statement, but he tried not to let it go to his head. This home visit was all about determining their ability to care for a disabled child. “Here, let’s start in the kitchen,” he said, leading the way.

They had been working on the adoption process for four months, and felt that approval would be the perfect present for their wedding, which was, somehow, only two weeks away.

“This is Luke Evans, my personal care assistant,” Dean said once Luke was in view. “As I said in our other interviews, he’ll be with me full-time for the next few years, as I’ll be the primary caregiver during the workday.”

Luke stood up and shook Deborah’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Likewise,” Deborah replied. “Now let’s do a tour of the apartment, and I’ll be asking some questions about how you two are prepared to for the responsibilities of raising a disabled child.”

“Of course,” Aidan replied, leading the way into the second bedroom, which was already being cleared to be a nursery. “This will be the baby’s room,” he explained. “We’re going to have a crib low enough that both of us can easily reach the baby. We’ll put in low shelves for books, clothes, and toys, and the changing table will be low. We keep our floors very clean so that our chairs can navigate easily, so they’ll be great for crawling, or wheeling,” he added. “Uh, Dean, our bedroom next?”

The older man showed Deborah into the bedroom. “There’s only one bathroom, which is in here,” he told her, opening the door so that she could see. “It’s very big, so we can easily bring a kid in here in a bouncer thing or car seat so that we can shower or use the loo while keeping an eye on them.” He next went to the kitchen. “Everything is close enough to the edge of the counter that we can reach it, but far enough back that it won’t fall. Bottles and formula will be kept the closest, so that we can do that quickly, when the baby is hungry. Our kitchen is accessible, and a disabled child could help us cook once they’re a little older. They would be able to learn from example how to perform daily tasks, which disabled kids don’t get from able-bodied parents.”

“Wonderful,” Deborah said, and she left half an hour later with a promise to call in a week.

* * *

Dean was in the middle of making edits to his vows for the upcoming wedding--somehow just nine days away--when his phone rang. Eyes glued to the paper in front of him, he didn’t glance at the caller ID before answering. “Dean O’Gorman,” he said politely, keeping the phone wedged between his shoulder and head.

“Mr. O’Gorman? It’s Deborah, from the adoption agency.”

The New Zealander dropped his pen and focused all of his attention on the call. “How are you?” he asked, attempting to sound patient.

Judging by Deborah’s laugh, his attempt failed. “I’m doing well. There’s a lovely young woman who is six months pregnant and is putting her child up for adoption. Now, there was a couple that was planning to adopt this baby--a little boy--but they backed out, because the latest scan showed that this child’s legs aren’t developing, and he will be born with legs that end above the knee. Well, I heard that and thought of a couple that could give that little boy a loving home. I’ve talked with all my supervisors. Can you and Mr. Turner meet us at our offices tomorrow? Your lawyer has agreed to come at nine, and the young woman will bring hers.

Dean was reeling. “Yeah, we… we can do that,” he said, holding back some very happy tears. “I’m sure Aidan can take a couple hours off work for that. I’ll see you tomorrow.” They exchanged pleasant goodbyes before hanging up.

“Who was that? You look like you’re about to faint, mate,” Luke said from the couch. He was going to continue, but Dean shushed him as he hit a few buttons on his phone.

Aidan was reading over a report when his phone rang. He debated whether or not to answer, since he was busy, but he decided he could be briefly distracted by his soon-to-be-husband. “Hey, darlin’,” he said warmly after answering. “How’s it going?”

“Can you go into work late tomorrow?” Dean asked in a rush. “Maybe around eleven?”

“Well, I can ask my boss, but I need a reason.”

“Just, you know, signing some important papers with a woman who’s six months pregnant with a boy who will be born without legs,” the older man crowed excitedly.

Shocked, Aidan barely registered Luke yelling “Oh my _God_ ” in the background. “Seriously?” he asked. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. I’ll talk to my boss right now. Wow. We’re going to have a freaking _baby_ ,” he mumbled, smiling to himself. “We’ll celebrate tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah.”


	23. Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww yeah. Gettin' married. Good times, y'all. Good times.

“Your tie isn’t right,” Christine said, crouching down a little to straighten it before her hands were batted away by her impatient son.

“My tie is fine,” Dean assured her, rolling his eyes. “I swear, mum, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be nervous. Luke dressed me perfectly this morning. Brett, make her stop,” he added in a whiny tone, making his little brother laugh. “Seriously, mum, I’m fine. Go out into the church and give us a minute. We’ll be out in a second and shit will get started.”

Christine left, but only after reprimanding her son for his language.

“Right, now that she’s gone, I feel like I’m supposed to say something deep and important,” Brett said, smiling. “I don’t know what sort of deep stuff I would say, though. Um, you know, this is a big thing, and you’ll be great, and Aidan’s lovely. You guys are going to be great parents and all. Have a good wedding night?” he added hesitantly. “Okay, no. I’m sorry I said that. Stop laughing at me!”

Dean composed himself, though he was still smirking. “Do you want all the details tomorrow?” he asked innocently, collapsing into laughter again when Brett made a face. “Okay, you’re bad at speeches. Whatever. Let’s go. I’m going to get married. Jed’s out there, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

*

The church was kind of huge, Aidan reflected. Height-wise, at least. It wasn’t going to hold a million people, but it sure as hell was tall, especially from his lower vantage point in his wheelchair. He realized he was a little distracted when his father’s voice cut through his thoughts, beginning a Bible reading that Aidan was sure was important. Somehow. Really, he knew that he should pay more attention, seeing as it was his own wedding, but, you know, he had been there in the planning. He knew what the reading was, and had probably read it over at least four times. Instead, he thought about the high ceiling, a little too nervous to think about things like upcoming vows and a wedding night.

All too soon, however, he was at the front of the church, pulling a little piece of paper out of his pocket to read from. He had made too many edits over the last week to be able to memorize it, so he was reading it from the sheet of printer paper that was covered with eraser marks and cross-outs. “Um, Dean. Hi. Yeah,” he mumbled, hearing quiet laughter ripple through the church before he took a deep breath and actually continued. “Remember Rio? You probably do, since you were there and all. Anyway, I came alive there,” he said, getting himself onto the script. “I had no idea how quickly people could fall in love. It took less than a month for me to know that I loved you, and when you moved here, I was happier than I had ever been. In a couple months, we’re going to have a kid, and I can’t imagine wanting a family with anyone else the way I want one with you. You complete me in a way nobody else ever has, and I love you. So, yeah, here’s a ring,” he finished, realizing he hadn’t actually written the part for exchanging rings. He slipped the little gold band onto Dean’s finger, smiling when he saw the metal settling against skin perfectly.

“Aidan, you are why I wake up in the morning,” Dean began, more composed that the younger man. “And you’re the reason I’m always excited to come home after work. I thought that winning medals was why I was so happy after a month in Rio, but when I went home, with my medals and without you, I figured out that it wasn’t that. I was happy there because there was this Irish rugby player with curly hair and a cute smile. You’re my everything, and I don’t know if I can imagine my life without you, because I don’t want to try. Basically, I love you more than anything, and I’m so happy to marry you.” He carefully put his closed-up hand under Aidan’s hand to lift it closer towards him, and fumbled with his more mobile hand to push the ring onto the younger man’s finger. “As you said, yeah, here’s a ring,” he teased lightly, working the band down Aidan’s finger slowly but surely. He wouldn’t do this usually, because it didn’t make a lot of sense to use his energy and coordination for such a small task, but for his wedding, he was determined to do it himself. After a minute, the ring was sitting at the base of the Irishman’s finger, glinting in the light.

“I now pronounce you two married, in the eyes of God and in the law,” the priest intoned, smiling at the two men in front of him. “You may now kiss,” he added.

Their kiss was short and sweet; after all, there were far too many family members around to get too distracted by the kiss. When they broke apart, they both smiled, a few tears in their eyes.

“Good?” Dean whispered.

“Great,” Aidan replied, sitting up and helping Dean to do the same, and they rolled down the aisle, smiling at their various friends and family as they clapped for them. Without a break, they went to the church’s large parish hall, which had been decorated for a reception, with tables spread out to leave room for wheelchairs, and a large open area for dancing. Both men appreciated how their mothers had helped them slog through the planning, because the room looked beautiful.

“Mm, how long are we staying?” Dean asked softly as they made their way toward the largest table. They had planned it for the morning, rather than the evening, simply so that they could leave for their honeymoon in Spain that afternoon, so it was time for lunch and some dancing before making their exit.

Aidan glanced at his watch. “It’s 11:30 now, and we need to be at the airport at three,” he said, thinking about the time needed to get on their flight. “We can leave at two, okay? And your parents offered to drop us there, so we can get happily tipsy without worrying about driving,” he added, kissing Dean’s nose. He was going to continue, but people began to come in from the church and make a beeline towards them to offer congratulations. Many guests were family and teammates, but there were also friends from other teams and other countries.

“You two were so sweet,” Tatyana McFadden gushed, hugging Dean and then Aidan with her sister following close behind to do the same. “I expect to see you for the London marathon, since you live here now,” she added to Dean, laughing at the face he made. The older man was a sprinter, not a distance guy. “We’ll move on so everyone else can congratulate you, but I expect to dance with at least one of you. The other can dance with Hannah.”

“Apparently I’m the consolation prize,” the younger woman joked. “That’s the problem with being the younger sibling. We’ll see you after eating!”

Dean waved happily; he was closer to the McFadden sisters than Aidan was, due to the fact that both of them did wheelchair track. Up next, however, were some of Aidan’s teammates, who congratulated them loudly and hugged a little roughly. Luckily, Orla Barry came up next, hugging gently and giving them respite from the harsher embraces of the ruggers.

“Have a great time on your honeymoon,” Luke said quietly as he stepped up to hug Dean tightly. “I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t let that fucker wear you out too much, you hear? Oh, and don’t get arrested for public sex.”

“Why do you feel a need to tell me that?” Dean asked, a little shocked. “I’m not going to do that. We’re classier than that!”

Aidan leaned over. “Speak for yourself, Deano,” he teased, hugging Luke and kissing his cheek. “Go wild on your week and a half off, okay? We expect to hear about all those orgies you go to once we get back.”

“Will do,” Luke promised before moving on.

Up next was Adam, who was smiling widely and leading Richard by the arm. “You two were cute as hell in Rio, but you’re even cuter now,” he informed the couple, making them smile. The four men all hugged, and the Brits moved on to let the line keep going.

It took about ten more people before they got to an able-bodied person: Jed’s son barreled into Dean happily as his mother and father followed him. “Dean! You got married. That’s cool!” he exclaimed, giving Aidan a once-over. The Brophy family had arrived just two days previously, and while Jed had seen Dean for the stag party (which was more of a lazy night of wine and movies than a real party), his wife and son hadn’t seen him yet, and neither had met Aidan.

“Hi, I’m Aidan,” the Irishman said pleasantly, shaking the little boy’s hand and making his face light up. “It’s good to meet you. Dean told me you are a pretty great guy.”

By the time the Brophy family went to sit down, the young boy was bouncing happily at being treated like a grown up. Next came the Mortensen-Bloom family, the few members of the New Zealand track and field team that could make it, and finally their various proud family members. Once everyone was in, getting food from a buffet and sitting down, the two men made their way to their seats, surrounded by various family members and close friends.

The first person to stand and ask for quiet was Christine. “I was devastated when Dean was paralyzed,” she began, causing a few confused looks between people--especially the Paralympians--about where this was going. “I thought he would never have a normal life. I thought he would be alone and depressed forever. He started doing sports, and I felt a bit better. He qualified for some IPC championships, and I felt a lot better. When he went to the Paralympics in Rio, I thought that being paralyzed wasn’t _so_ bad. It was less than an hour ago, though, that I finally realized that God had a plan after the accident. I can’t say I’m happy that it happened, but that’s how these two met. I’m so glad that my son found his soul mate, and that this soul mate is someone as wonderful as Aidan. A week ago, Dean told me he wouldn’t change anything, even the crash and the long road of recovery, because it all led to Aidan. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. God bless these two,” she added, and then raised her glass in a toast.

Dean felt a little uncomfortable that his mother’s toast had focused so much on his injury, but he let it slide and just drank champagne. Apparently, there had been some sort of agreement that mothers would go first, because Aidan’s mother stood up next, wiping her mouth delicately before clearing her throat.

“All I have ever wanted for Aidan is for him to be truly happy,” she began, voice a little wobbly from emotion. “He’s my son, and he works so hard in every aspect of his life that I always knew he deserved a wonderful life to be shared with a wonderful person. When he first brought Dean to Ireland for a weekend, I could tell that Aidan was the happiest he’d been in his entire life. I started to hope for their relationship to continue and grow, but I was still surprised and beyond happy when Aidan called me one day to say that when he got home in a few hours, he was going to propose to Dean. You are both beautiful, loving men, and I wish you a long lifetime of happiness,” she finished.

Dean smiled, looking over at his new husband, the fact that they were well and truly married still sinking in. He hadn’t really thought ahead to how this part would feel, because the planning and the soon-to-arrive baby had taken up all of his attention. It turned out that the whole married thing was a pretty good feeling, at least so far. He leaned over, using an arm to support the weight of his upper body until he rested against Aidan’s side. “I love you,” he mumbled, looking around at the people around the tables.

“Love you too,” Aidan whispered back, grinning. He was a little relieved when nobody else stood to make a speech. He wanted a bit of a break from all the congratulations to just eat and sit next to Dean. “This food is great,” he said through a mouthful of vegetables. “You got that?” he added, watching Dean weave his fork and knife through his stiff hands, which looked a little more spastic than usual. “I can cut the meat for you, if you want.” While the vegetables were in small enough pieces, and the mashed potatoes would be no problem, the beef was in larger pieces that needed a knife to be manageable.

“I’ll see what I can do first,” Dean replied, stabbing his fork into the thick slice of beef and carefully dragging his knife across it. “Yeah, I’ve got it,” he said after a moment of slow sawing. “I can’t believe we’re headed to Spain for a week,” he commented happily. “Just us for a week. You’ve been lifting enough that you can help me out without Luke around, right?”

Aidan nodded, smiling. “Babe, I have a medal in wheelchair rugby and I’m not exactly about to retire before Tokyo. I’ve been training, and you know I can lift you. I get you into bed every night, don’t I?” He kissed Dean’s nose. “If I can’t, we might have to spend a whole week in bed. Wouldn’t that be a shame,” he teased, kissing his husband once more before turning back to his food.

At a nearby table, Luke smiled, nudging Jed so the Kiwi would see the newlyweds being adorable at the table at the front of the room. The Paralympian grinned. “Are they always like that?” he asked the Welshman.

“Nah, only a little,” Luke replied honestly. “Most of the time when I’m there, it’s after work and they’re too tired for this. I get Dean showered and leave ‘em be. Bet they‘re all sorts of, ah, ‘like that‘ when I leave, though,” he added with a smirk, laughing when Jed gave a theatrical shudder, as if he had never heard the like. “Hey, I’m just saying. A couple of young guys in love like that? You know how that goes.”

Jed groaned. “Stop it,” he begged, making a face. “Those two are my friends and I don’t feel like imagining that kind of thing between them,” he explained. ”Now stop talking about that and let me finish my dinner,” he finished, turning back to his food, still smiling a little over how happy his friends were.

Back at the main table, Dean and Aidan were speaking quietly, heads close together and smiling blissfully. Their conversation ended, however, when Christine tapped her son on the shoulder to remind the couple that it was almost time to start dancing. They rolled back from the table and wandered out to the dance floor, blushing lightly as they took hands and a slow song began to play. “I‘m not thrilled that we have to do this in front of everyone,” Dean mumbled, drawing Aidan in as close as possible. It was a little hard for them to dance, since they were both in chairs. While it was pretty simple for a wheelie to dance with able-bodied person, it was harder to do with two wheelchairs, especially since the older man was in his power chair. Conscious of all the eyes watching them closely, Dean put his hand in Aidan’s, rested his curled-up hand on the brunet’s shoulder, and let the younger man sway their bodies, while keeping the track star from falling over with each lean.

“Hey, don't worry about what other people see,“ Aidan said quietly, wrapping his free arm around Dean‘s shoulders.    “I think you’re a great dancer. And I'm the important one today, aren’t I?“ he teased right into the older man‘s ear. “I'm so important, in fact, that you are going to be sobbing my name into the pillows of a Spanish hotel room tonight,“ he added, grinning as he felt Dean shudder against him. He knew that his whispering was inappropriate for being on the dance floor in front of their families, but he didn't really care. After all, starting to think about the wedding night was pretty exciting. He had spent the past week working out the last details of the wedding and researching things like cribs and baby monitors, so he hadn’t had the time to stop and imagining exactly how the night would go. Now, however, with no wedding left to plan, and the baby things far in the back of his mind, he was able to think about it very, very well.

“I can‘t believe you‘re talking about that right now,“ Dean muttered, a light blush spreading over his cheeks. “And how are you so sure you won‘t be crying my name tonight?“ he asked with a smirk. “You, my love, are in for a good night. The wedding night only happens once, babe. I am going to make it amazing for you.“

Aidan was pretty impressed that Dean had taken his innuendo and whispers and had actually topped him. “Oh man, I don't want to have to wait til seven or whatever to get to that hotel and get you into bed. Another hour and a half here, an hour to the airport, two hours waiting there, and two and a half hours on the plane… it’s too long,“ he whined quietly.

“What do you want me to do about that?“ Dean asked, laughing.          “Sorry, baby, you will have to wait. Meantime, I think my mother wants to dance with you,“ he said a little louder, nodding over Aidan‘s shoulder towards his waiting mother.

The couple broke apart and each began to dance with various friends and family members. The last hour and a half they spent at the reception passed quickly in a haze of dancing, cake, and drinks, and by the time Aidan and Dean piled into a rented accessible van with Lance in the driver‘s seat. “You two were very sweet in that church,“ he commented, smiling in the rearview mirror as he watched his son and son-in-law lean on each other. “I don't even mind the little bit of drunkenness going on now. I think you both got a little carried away at that bar.“

Dean squawked a little indignantly.           “Dad, Grandma kept telling me that she would marry Aidan if I hadn’t, and after she drank a few glasses of champagne she told asked me about how we can have sex. That sort of talk from a grandparent necessitates alcohol, you know.“  

“Did she say that?“ Lance asked, clearly surprised. “Yeah, I can see why that would make you drink. Lord. You restrained yourself from the sauce pretty well, then,” he added, rolling his eyes at the antics of his mother-in-law after a few drinks. He continued a light conversation with the two young men as they drove toward the airport.

Inside the airport, both men suffered through the pat-downs that they had to do every time, thanks to an inability to go through scanners in wheelchairs, but they got to their gate with an hour to spare, even after stopping to go to the bathroom. Both of the had to gate-check their wheelchairs and get wheeled to their seats in an aisle chair, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care. After all, what was a minor inconvenience, one that they had both dealt with for years, when they were on their way to a honeymoon in Spain?


	24. The Wedding Night Begins

For Aidan, planes were no less comfortable than they were for able-bodied people. For Dean, however, it was a different matter. They had barely taken off when the older man began to shift, trying desperately to get himself into a more comfortable position. It wasn't exactly easy, as even shifting took a fair amount of effort, and he eventually gave up and leaned onto Aidan with a miserable little noise. ”How long is this flight supposed to be?” he mumbled into the younger man‘s ear.

”Two and a half hours, babe,” Aidan replied apologetically. ”I think it will only be two hours more. Think of Spain, Dean. We‘ll be so much happier there, so you can wait for a couple more hours. Want me to help you move a little?“ he asked quietly, turning towards his husband in case the older man did want help.

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m going to get comfortable at all, to be honest,” he said quietly. “If we start shifting me around, we’ll be shifting me for the next two hours. I’ll try to get some sleep, yeah? We’ll want to stay up late tonight,” he added with a smile, leaning into Aidan’s warm shoulder and blushing a little.

“Are you okay, sir?” asked a flight attendant, gently tapping Dean on the shoulder. “You’ve been shifting a lot. I know the plane can’t be comfortable for you. Is there anything I can do?” She looked at him sympathetically. “Flights aren’t always comfortable at the best of times, and you look pretty sore.”

“I don’t think it’s physically possible for me to get comfortable here,” Dean admitted. “Sorry, that sounded kind of mean about your airplane. I just mean that my wheelchair has really specific cushioning and ways to adjust that aren’t going to happen right now. It’s just a couple hours. I’ll survive.” He gave the woman a small smile and leaned a little more on Aidan.

The flight attendant moved away from them, checking on other passengers, and Aidan put his left hand over Dean’s right one. “I’m so excited about this,” he whispered, curling his fingers between his husband’s. “I mean, a week in a hotel with just the two of us? No work, no responsibilities… plenty of time to love each other. Well, and pick out baby names,” he added happily. “We’ll have a little boy in a couple months, and he’s going to need some sort of name. We can’t just call him ‘the baby’ forever. It would be weird if he wrote that on his schoolwork.”

Dean laughed softly, feeling a little better now that he was relaxed, even without any relief from pain. “Well, we need to figure out some sort of last name,” he said simply. “His middle name will be the other last name, so he just needs a first name, really.” He sighed happily. “Do you want an Irish name? I mean, I’ve got the O’Something last name, so it would go well with either last name. Or we can name him something else. I’m really open. Just nothing too weird or out there, you know? No need to reinvent the wheel with naming.”

The younger man smiled and kissed Dean’s temple. “If we figure it out on the plane, what will we have to talk about while we’re there?” he asked teasingly. “Irish would be nice, I suppose. Any name is fine with me, honestly. I’ve never understood freaking out over baby names. I mean, whatever, we’ll figure out a name for him eventually. We’ve got a couple months, and we’re pretty decisive people. I promise, we’re not going to end up with a kid who doesn’t have a name.”

“Shut up, I’m nesting,” Dean said with a laugh, nudging Aidan with his right elbow, glad that the younger man was sitting on his more mobile side. “Whatever, I’ll think of names while you act like you’re too cool for it,” he added, smiling when Aidan chuckled. “So, how did you like our wedding?”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I loved it. You know that. How could I not? I mean, seriously, we got married, and everyone was happy to see it, and there were no crazy mishaps like the wedding cake falling apart or someone getting trashed and yelling or anything. Our friends were there, our families were there, and we’re married, like actually, legally married. How great is that?” He kissed Dean’s temple again. “Now we’re heading off on a honeymoon, which we both know is going to be amazing. How could I be anything less than ecstatic?”

“I love you,” Dean said conversationally, moving his left hand a little restlessly, his spasticity bothering him as he stayed in one position. “Fuck it, I’m going to sleep now. You’re right. Sleep is important.” He closed his eyes and sighed, willing himself to fall asleep despite the discomfort of the seat.

Next to him, Aidan just smiled as his husband’s breathing evened out, and he picked up the in-flight magazine and began to fill in the crossword, careful not to move too much so he wouldn’t wake Dean. Luckily, two and a half hours wasn’t that bad for a flight, and the crossword and Sudoku puzzles kept him occupied until the announcement about arrival came on over the speakers. “Hey, babe, we’re about to land,” he said softly, gently shaking Dean’s shoulder.

The older man cracked his eyes open; he had only dozed off, really, not fully fallen asleep, so waking up wasn’t that bad. “Okay,” he replied simply. “Can you help me sit up a bit more?” he asked, noticing that he had slid down in his seat while leaning on Aidan. “I know it’s just, like, half an hour til they bring the aisle chair and we get off the plane, but this position can’t be good for me.”

“Only half an hour?” Aidan repeated, shifting in his seat to get a better angle for helping Dean. “Half an hour is a long time to be in a bad position. What do you want me to do for you?”

“I’m going to push up on my arms, and I need you to push my legs to slide my butt back under my torso,” Dean instructed, waiting for a nod from the Irishman before counting to three and pushing up, glad it only took a couple seconds for Aidan to get his lower body in the right position. “Thanks,” he said as he lowered himself back into a real seated position, kissing the younger man’s cheek fondly. “I’m so happy to be here with you,” he whispered.

Aidan smiled, putting his hand over Dean’s again. “Me too,” he replied quietly. “I knew getting married makes people happy, but I had no idea it would feel this amazing. And, you know, it’s Spain. We can eat good food and wander around a bit and it will be gorgeous. There’s nobody I’d rather go anywhere with,” he added. “Well, when our kid is born, there will be two people I want to take everywhere, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Dean said dreamily, stretching a bit to look past Aidan to see out the window as they descended and approached the airport. “We’ve got everything lined up, yeah? Accessible cab, hotel room with a roll in shower, bank knows we’re here so we can get money from the ATMs…”

“It’s all sorted, so don’t think about it,” Aidan replied. “Everything will be perfect. We checked three times that you brought the charger for your chair, and I have extra tires and tubes and a pump. You just think about wedding night… activities,” he finished with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and a grin.

Dean blushed a little, but was perfectly happy to think of that. Unlike Aidan, he could think about sex with all sorts of details, since his body wouldn’t react without physical stimulation. While Aidan censored his thoughts to avoid public erections, Dean cheerfully tried to think of various ways for them to wear each other out that night. He began an internal debate on how to kick things off. Should they start with their usual, always wonderful, sex? Aidan could ride Dean, they could do a lot of kissing, and all that. On the other hand, they could start with something a little different while they had more energy, and lapse into regular sex later. Dean was planning to go at least a few rounds, even though he knew it would end up pushing his body to the limit in a way racing never had. On the other hand, as he had told Aidan at the wedding, this night would only happen once.

It turned out that thinking of the upcoming sex was a great distraction, because Dean only noticed their plane landing when the bounced a little on the runway. “I’ve got some great ideas,” he told Aidan, grinning and brushing his lips over his husband’s. “I’ll let you in on them when we get to the hotel. Here’s a hint, though: we’re going to have sex,” he whispered.

Giggling a little, Aidan tapped his head gently against Dean’s. “I figured that part out all on my own, you know,” he replied. “We should probably eat a bit of dinner first, though. Just a bit of fruit would be fine with me, since we had a huge lunch at the wedding, but we'll need a little something to give us energy for all of this.”

Dean nodded. “I’ll pick up some fruit while you get our bags from baggage claim,” he said after a moment. With his hand problems, he couldn’t really grab bags off of the carousel, so he figured he might as well do something useful while Aidan got their stuff. They honestly had meant to travel light, but with Dean’s power chair charger, Aidan’s emergency wheelchair fixing supplies, and a few other things, they had ended up checking two bags. Anyway, the younger man had mumbled something about surprises and had been a little secretive packing his bag, so clearly there was another motivation.

At the time, Dean would have estimated that it took approximately forever for the rest of the passengers to get off the plane, but, in retrospect, he realized it was only a few minutes. Once people had walked off, the aisle chair came, getting him out first, followed by Aidan. Their wheelchairs were right by the plane door, and they switched quickly and started making their way toward baggage claim. When they got near the carousels, they split up. Aidan headed over to carousel number six to pick up their bags, and Dean popped into a nearby café for two coffees, a yogurt and granola parfait, and a couple apples. By the time he had paid and made his way toward the baggage claim, Aidan had already gotten both suitcases and was patiently waiting for him. “Our cab isn’t due for another fifteen minutes,” the younger man said, checking his phone for the time. “Let’s eat this now, yeah, so we just have to fall in bed after we check in.”

Dean grimaced. “I should pee, though. You good to help me here, or should we wait til we’re at the hotel?”

“Are you good til the hotel?” Aidan asked after gulping down some coffee. “The stalls here might not be big enough for both of our chairs, especially since you’re using the electric.”

Nodding, Dean replied, “Yeah, I’m fine,” and proceeded to eat his apple and half of the parfait, splitting the latter with Aidan. By the time they had finished their food, it was time to go outside for their cab. The van had a ramp for Dean to go into the back, and Aidan transferred to the front seat so that their baggage and his wheelchair could stay in the backseats. Their little bit of Spanish combined with the driver’s good English made going to the hotel easy, and within thirty minutes they were checked in and on the elevator up to their third floor room.

“This looks great,” Aidan enthused, dropping their bags as he looked around. There was a big bed, which was low enough that transfers wouldn’t be too much of a pain, a desk, a microwave, a small fridge, and a television.

“Aid, I need to pee,” Dean reminded his husband, heading into the spacious bathroom and rolling up next to the toilet. Thanks to evenings and weekends without Luke to help, they were quite used to the routine, and it only interrupted their evening for a few minutes. “Now, I had some ideas when I was told to think about tonight’s activities, and I want to bounce them off you,” Dean said as he dried his hands and headed out of the bathroom and toward the bed. “Unless you have anything you’re just dying to do, now that we’re married,” he added. “You were pretty secretive with the stuff you put in your bag. For all I know, there’s a surprise in there for me tonight.”

“I got us a giant double-ended fisting dildo,” Aidan said seriously, keeping a straight face for about three seconds before bursting into laughter along with his husband. “No, I did get some stuff, just little things, if you want to see?” he offered shyly. His idiot teammates had convinced him to do this during the stag party, and he was now wondering if it had been a good idea. It had been worth going into the shop, just to see the confused look of the employees at six men in wheelchairs, two walking with prosthetic legs, and three able-bodied roaming the store, but it was a lot scarier to get a bag of… stuff out in front of Dean.

Knowing from Aidan’s blush and expression that the younger man was a little unsure of it, Dean rushed to express openness. “Whatever you got, you know I’ll be happy,” he said soothingly. “If I don’t want to do something, I’ll just tell you and then we move on. I’m happy to try, uh, things, since I don’t have a lot of sensation. It might make things a little more intense for me, you know? My doctor once recommended I fool around with things but I was way too shy to go into a store and buy anything.” He shrugged, tilting his head to the side curiously as the brunet dug into his suitcase.

“Okay, the guys on the team sort of made me get things. Well, actually, they bought them and made me promise to pack them. I don’t even know what is in here. Let’s see. It’s like unwrapping presents!” the Irishman said cheerfully, feeling better now that Dean had taken the pressure off. He pulled out a plain black bag and dumped it on the bed. “Okay, this doesn’t look as scary as I thought it would,” he commented, relieved. “Cinnamon lube, glow in the dark condoms--we should use them for penis duels!--handcuffs,” he listed, picking up each item as he said what it was and setting it on the edge of the bed. “Cuffs are pointless. Your arms won’t bend right to use them, and you wouldn’t be able to use the key to take them off of me. We could capture a criminal, though!” he added brightly. “It looks like everyone got me one thing, so we’ll have eleven things. Man, this is like sex-themed Christmas.”

Dean laughed happily. “See, it’s not nearly as scary as you thought it would be. Okay, my turn to look at things.” He pushed an item out of the unsorted pile toward the “looked through” pile. “Throat-numbing spray. Do they think we’re unable to give good blowjobs? I’m insulted,” he said, looking for another item to find. “Ew,” he said simply, shoving the next item aside. “I don’t want to know why someone gave us a vagina fleshlight, but I’m going to pretend it doesn’t exist,” he said firmly, turning back to the other things. “Vibrator; see, that’s normal stuff people buy at these places. I’ve never tried one but I’m up for it. Oh, and they gave us batteries. That’s so thoughtful.”

“Ooh, my turn,” Aidan said, looking at the five presents left to sort through them. He picked up a dark bottle and began to giggle. “It’s called Uranus Anal Lube,” he cackled, showing the bottle to Dean. “All lube should have a pun,” he said decisively. He picked up the next item with just two fingertips, looking at it suspiciously. “Is that… is that a butterfly?” he asked, staring. “Who uses anal beads that have a decorative butterfly?” He felt perplexed, but maybe he just wasn’t a butterfly guy. He tossed those along with the other toys and lubes they had already seen, and picked up a colorful phallus. “Okay, if you don’t want to use this together, I’m so keeping it anyway,” he said decisively. “Glass dildos are gorgeous, and I can totally use this while you’re gone.”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know what I do when you’re traveling for track,” Aidan said with a smirk. “You’ve seen a dildo in that drawer by the bed, and this one is pretty. It’s great. I kind of want to put it on our mantle, since it looks like art.”

“I’m sure the adoption agency people would love that,” Dean replied drily, making both of them laugh. “Nah, it looks cool. I’d be open to that sort of thing. You know, to try. Really, it’s just so pretty I want to use it on principle. Okay, two left. My turn.” He picked up another thing. “I don’t… what is this?” he asked, turning the thing over in his hand. “I seriously have no idea.”

Aidan took the toy and looked at it. “Not that I want to admit this sort of thing to you, but I know. It’s a penis extender. Okay, your dick is great without any help. This thing isn’t going to be used. Is there a sex toy secondhand shop we can give it to?”

“If there is, I will die a little on the inside,” Dean commented, looking a little scared at the mere idea. “Okay, last thing. Hey, I know what this is! It’s a cock ring,” he announced, sounding a bit proud of his knowledge. “I’m betting it’s from one of the paralyzed guys on your team. Some guys have trouble keeping it up because of fucked up brain signals and nerves, so these help. As you are well aware, I don’t need that, but it’s a nice thought.” He smiled at their little pile. “That was fun. Your friends are cool, even if one of them gave us a vagina fleshlight for some reason.” He looked over at Aidan. “Wedding night time, babe. Want to try anything?” he asked, gesturing to the pile of various toys and lubes on the bed.

Aidan shook his head, pushing the purchases of his friends off the bed and back into the suitcase. “I just want you,” he said softly, grabbing a bottle of regular lube and tossing it onto the bed. “I want to kiss you and make love for an hour, because we’re _married_ now,” he continued, rolling around the bed to get at the right angle to help Dean. With the number of times they had done this, they managed to get the older man onto the bed without any difficulty, and Aidan hopped up after and sat gently on his husband’s hips. “I want to go so slow you last forever, because it’s going to be so perfect we don’t want it to end.”

Dean smiled up at Aidan, his right hand moving up to rest on the younger man’s hip. “You are perfect,” he whispered. “Come on, let’s get undressed, Aid. Wait,” he said, stopping Aidan as he moved to yank off his shirt. “I want to do that,” he told him shyly. Despite how long they had been together, he had never undressed Aidan. It was difficult and always seemed like a pointless use of Dean’s energy. It was just like placing the ring on his husband’s finger, though: he needed to do this, because it was their wedding.

Smiling widely Aidan dropped his hand from his shirt. “That sounds great to me,” he mumbled. “Need me to move?” he asked. The older man was propped against the headboard, partially sitting up so that when they had sex they could kiss easily, but Aidan was unsure if that was a good position for Dean to undress him. “I know I’m going to get so turned on just from you undressing me,” he added, kissing the tip of the Kiwi’s nose before sitting up a little straighter.

“You’re good right there,” Dean said, his right hand slipping inside Aidan’s soft t-shirt, ghosting over the brunet’s nipples and making him gasp before he started to pull the younger man’s arm in through his sleeve. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, yeah?”

Aidan breathed out a small chuckle. “Babe, I’m getting hard from you moving my arm around in my shirt,” he said. “The only thing uncomfortable is how tight my pants are getting.” He wasn’t lying; just knowing that Dean was the one moving his body around, that he was willing to put in the effort to do this for Aidan was somehow erotic, and his cock was already starting to fill with blood. He let his head roll to the side as Dean pulled his other arm into the torso of the shirt, and leaned forward so that the older man could pull the cloth over his head. “You just took off my shirt,” he whispered, a little in awe. “You went to a lot off effort just because you wanted me. I… you’re amazing,” he mumbled, ducking down to kiss Dean heatedly, rolling his hips against the narrow ones under him, groaning. He shuddered a little when he felt stiff fingers working at his belt, and he had to consciously stop himself from reaching down to help, since he was so used to rushing through this part by doing it all himself.

Honestly, Dean didn’t understand why this felt so important to him; it was just undressing Aidan. They had been naked together many times, and just switching up who did the actual removal of the clothes didn’t seem like it would be a big deal, but it was. It took far longer than he expected to deal with the younger man’s belt, but once it was open he attacked the button and fly of the soft blue jeans, panting in exertion when Aidan pulled away from the kiss. “You weren’t kidding about getting hard,” he observed as he worked the zipper down and took some of the pressure off the erection underneath.

“I never joke about erections.”

“Yeah, you do. All the time. You’re like a fourteen-year-old,” Dean replied, smirking, and he hooked fingers from his right hand in the waistband of Aidan’s jeans and used the knuckles of his left hand to work the fabric down the younger man’s hips and off his stumps, tossing them to the side when he finished. “Fuck,” he muttered, staring at the sight in front of him: Aidan in tight boxer briefs, tented by a sizeable erection before either of them had even touched his cock. “Fuck,” he repeated, his mind a little blank as he just sort of took in the sight.

Aidan grinned, feeling rather proud that his dick still seemed to impress his husband. “I want you so badly,” he reminded Dean. “I’m going to get these fucking clothes off of you, because I need you to make love to me right now.” He peeled Dean’s shirt off of him carefully, going as fast as possible without jerking the other man’s arms in the process. “I can’t decide where I want to put my mouth the most,” he complained, but he resolved that by starting to suck on the blond man’s right nipple as he worked at Dean’s jeans, palming at the cock beneath him roughly as he did so. Despite being clearly turned on, the older man was still pretty much soft, since he hadn’t had much physical stimulation. It was a little difficult to manage Dean’s fly while rubbing him so enthusiastically, but he somehow managed to get the jeans and boxers off relatively quickly, and switched which arm was his husband as he felt the flesh in his hand start to lengthen and harden, wanting to stroke instead of just rub.

“You’re still wearing underwear,” Dean observed, voice a little breathy as his body started to react to all the stimulation. “I feel like that’s a problem.”

“It is,” Aidan agreed, sitting up to wiggle out of his boxer briefs. “Okay, give me, like, two seconds to get myself ready,” he added, grabbing the lube and starting to finger himself. “I know this is about going slow and making it last, but we can start that part once you’re inside me,” he muttered, stretching himself as fast as he could without causing any pain.

Dean was rather impressed with how quickly Aidan was opening himself up, and he simply stayed where he was on the bed, getting more and more excited about the fact they were about to have their first married-people sex. “Oh Jesus,” he mumbled when Aidan removed his fingers. “Come on, babe,” he said softly, reaching his right hand out towards his husband’s hand.

With a soft sigh, Aidan sank down onto Dean’s erection, shuddering at the stretch. He gladly wove his fingers through the smaller man’s once he could let go of the cock below his body, and he leaned in close to him. “It’s our first time without a condom,” he began, “and our first time being married. I’m so fucking happy to be here with you.” He began to rock slowly, not bouncing and riding Dean hard like he often did.

“I’d never want this with anyone else,” Dean replied sincerely, barely feeling Aidan’s small movements but happy all the same. “I love you, Aidan. I love you so much.” He squeezed the younger man’s fingers tightly and tilted his head up to kiss him. They stopped talking as they kissed, all soft lips and wandering tongues and tiny movements as Aidan continued rocking on top. “Not to break the mood,” Dean said with a rueful grin when they moved apart a little. “But I’m not going to stay hard this way. It’s not enough stimulation for me.” He groaned a little as his husband began to roll his hips more, giving him some much-needed pleasure that would definitely keep his erection up.

As it turned out, switching movements was perfect for Aidan as well. He liked the idea of sweet, slow sex with soft declarations of love the whole time, but it wasn’t really their thing. After a couple minutes of slow rocking, he had been ready for more and was happy that Dean was too. “Fuck,” he gasped, finding the perfect angle to hit his prostate over and over as he continued to move, his free arm gripping the headboard as the other stayed firmly entangled with Dean’s. “Okay, yeah, slow was nice but this is better,” he admitted breathlessly. “We just aren’t slow sex people.”

“We really aren’t,” Dean agreed, huffing out a bit of a laugh. “This is perfect, though. Oh, fuck, yeah, just like that!” he added loudly as Aidan moved just a little faster. He was pretty sure that the younger man had also squeezed his internal muscles, because he could tell that something down there just felt _more_. “Married sex is great.”

Aidan nodded vehemently in agreement. “It really is,” he groaned, regretfully letting go of Dean’s hand to start to stroke his own erection as he continued riding his husband rather hard. “God, Dean,” he gasped, pushing down a little harder with each movement of his hips to get more and more perfect pressure on his prostate. “I fucking love you,” he growled, leaning down and kissing the older man hard enough to take his breath away.

Dean moaned into the kiss, loving the passion that was poured into it, and the knowledge that Aidan loved him so much he couldn’t stop himself. He carefully scooted his right hand between their bodies and, concentrating hard so as not to mess up the amount of pressure, he ran his knuckles over Aidan’s cock, following the path of his jerking hand.

After all their time together, it was yet another first. Dean always kept his hands away, knowing that his coordination could pose a major problem. Aidan always got himself off wonderfully, and they both felt that they didn’t need to try to fix something that wasn’t broken. It turned out, however, that this tiny movement was possibly the greatest thing that could have happened for Aidan.

He let out a shocked gasp and sagged forward as the soft touches of Dean’s fingers against his aching cock made him come, hips jerking as he cried out and lay his head on his husband’s shoulder, moaning out what were supposed to be declarations of love but came out as unintelligible noises. Even when his orgasm was over, and his come started to slide down their chests and stomachs with each movement, he kept riding Dean, clenching his muscles hard and shuddering as his body felt a little overstimulated.

Below him, Dean was getting close from the pressure around his cock but also the fact that one little touch of his hands could send Aidan over the edge. “Almost there, babe,” he whispered, knowing that continuing after finishing was not the most comfortable sensation. “Fuck, yeah, that, that,” he groaned as sticky fingers began to pinch at his right nipple. It took less than a minute before he came, eyes rolling back as he groaned loudly through his orgasm. “Oh my God,” he mumbled as he came down from the high, grunting a little when Aidan toppled off of him and curled up at his side. “Fuck.”

“You really pulled out all the stops, there,” Aidan commented breathlessly, kissing Dean’s shoulder and smiling. “You got me undressed, and you touched my cock. That was fucking amazing. You’ve sucked me, had me inside you, all that, but this is the first time you’ve really touched me like that. Your hands and arms must be good today for you to try that out,” he added, wanting Dean to know that he understood why this hadn’t happened before.

“I stretched my arms a ton this morning,” Dean admitted, smiling. “And I moved my arm a little on the bed before I did it. I would have cried if I’d messed up our wedding night by accidentally slamming my knuckles into your dick.”

Aidan shuddered a little at the thought of it. “Glad you made sure it was a calculated risk,” he said cheerfully. “Here, let me get a washcloth and clean us up, and then we can think about all these fancy things my teammates got me that we can try out,” he suggested, sliding off the bed and heading to the bathroom, where he wet a washcloth and wiped himself off before taking it to the bed to do the same for his husband.

Dean grinned up at him. “Round two?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the Irish WC rugby team is an exciting group of people who will buy sex toys for each other :) More wedding night and honeymoon to come, obviously. Porn but also probably some other stuff. I guess. We'll see.


	25. Spain: Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you read my other story, you will be happy to know that this is super fun and happy now, so you can take a break from the current angst of that one :) Yay honeymoons!

Aidan stretched his arms out above his head after tossing the washcloth on the bedside table. “You think you can do it again already?” he asked, only half teasing. Dean’s body was a fickle thing, and he wasn’t sure how long it would take before he could get it up again, no matter how much he wanted it.

“Not sure, really,” Dean answered honestly, smiling as Aidan collapsed down next to him on the bed. “Probably not.” They had been through more than their fair share of times when Dean’s body simply refused to work, and, even if they hadn’t had sex in days, his cock just wouldn’t get hard. They both knew that hoping for a second round would be pushing it. “I can do something for you, though,” he offered cheerfully. “I have a mouth that works wonders.” He stopped and looked pensive. “Aid?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it would feel good if you were on top while I can’t get hard?” he asked softly. “We can try, and if it doesn’t feel good, we move on. I was just thinking, though, that the prostate is a different thing completely, so it might work to try it?” he finished hesitantly.

Aidan was surprised, but tried not to show it too much. “We can try it,” he agreed slowly. “You need to tell me if it doesn’t feel good, though. Not just if it feels bad,” he added quickly. “If there isn’t any pleasure in it for you, I don’t want you to just ride it out for me, okay?” He grinned when Dean rolled his eyes while agreeing. “Now that it’s settled, hand me the lube.”

Dean pushed the bottle down the bed as Aidan scooted between his legs, prying the uncooperative limbs apart gently but firmly until he could fit between them. After a moment’s thought, the younger man also grabbed a pillow and pushed it under his husband’s hips for support. He coated his fingers liberally with lube and pressed one in as he leaned down to suck gently at Dean’s waist, right at the point where he knew the blond had enough sensation for a good sensitive spot.

Quietly, more relaxed than aroused, Dean sighed, shifting his shoulder to get in a more comfortable position. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” he told Aidan. “I could just get you off or something.”

Aidan looked up, resting his chin on Dean’s stomach as he did so. “Seriously? ‘Oh, you don’t need to put your dick in my super tight body, Aidan, it’s fine,’” he mimicked, smirking. “No way, babe. As long as it’s good for you, I definitely want it too.” He went back to sucking at different patches of sensitive skin on Dean’s stomach and hip, and he pulled out his finger to push it back in with a second one, stretching carefully and thoroughly. Since their first experience with Aidan on top, they had only done it a couple more times, but he knew how careful he had to be. He moved his head from Dean’s hip to his flaccid cock and began to suck and tongue it gently, unfazed when it didn’t react.

“That’s weird,” Dean commented as he watched. “I’m looking down, you’re sucking me, and my dick is doing nothing. Still feels nice, though,” he added. He had some sensation in his cock, but not enough to really sort out different sensations well, especially since his two sensations there tended to be “nothing” and “hard and being touched” rather than what was happening then. It was a light sensation, and not one that he thought would get him terribly aroused, but it reminded him of when Aidan would trace little patterns on his scalp idly while sitting next to him.

Grinning, Aidan popped off for a moment. “Ah, ‘that’s weird’ is just what every man wants to hear from his partner in bed,” he teased, biting down gently on Dean’s hip. “I’ve got two fingers in you and I’m moving them apart pretty well. I’ll do one more and stretch them out before I get inside,” he added, informing Dean of his progress before pulling out his two fingers to slide three back in. Not minding if what he did was “weird” by any standards as long as it felt good for his husband, he went right back to kissing, sucking, and teasing the soft cock in front of his face, closing his eyes and letting the thought of it sink in as he ground his hips down into the mattress below. After a few minutes, he sat up a little straighter. “If it hurts or just isn’t anything fun, you’d better tell me,” he said to Dean as he coated his erection in lube.

Dean let out another soft sigh as Aidan sank in. He could feel some pressure, but not the burning stretch he remembered from being able-bodied. Aidan had been too concentrated on his flaccid dick to hit his prostate while fingering him, so he was genuinely curious to see how that would feel. He looked right up into his husband’s eyes as he realized something. “This is the first time you’ve fucked me without a condom,” he said, grinning at the look on Aidan’s face. “Come on, babe, go on and fuck me. I won’t know if it feels good til you actually move.”

“You’re very demanding,” Aidan muttered, but he gave Dean a kiss as he leaned down and began to roll his hips, starting slow before building up speed. As great as it felt, with Dean hot and tight around him, he pushed his own pleasure aside to watch for signs that the older man was enjoying himself too. Below him, the New Zealander had a small smile on his face and looked content and sweet, but that wasn’t exactly the face Aidan was looking for during sex. He twisted his hips a little, and grinned when he got it.

“Aidan!” Dean gasped, head tilting back suddenly as he felt pleasure from out of nowhere. “Yeah, fuck, there, there,” he begged, wanting more than anything to keep that feeling going. “Oh my God,” he added, voice cracking a little as he struggled to find a way to push back into Aidan’s thrusts. “Come on, harder,” he groaned, finding himself unable to move against his husband.

Aidan used his right arm to balance himself as his left hand started roaming and scratching around the right side of Dean’s chest. If the blond couldn’t have an erection to stroke, then Aidan was going to pull out all the stops wherever else he could. He slammed his hips forward, biting his lip to keep himself from getting to the edge too quickly, and pinched Dean’s nipple, fingers slipping so that his nails bit into it.

“Fuck!” Dean screamed, thrashing his head back as that stab of sensation, coupled with the hard thrusts against his prostate, made him feel like he was coming, without any hint of an erection to speak of. “Aidan, Aidan, oh my God,” he babbled, right hand shooting up and squeezing the younger man’s arm tightly. “Babe, come for me? Please?” he begged, knowing the sensation would stop feeling good any moment and wanting to avoid that.

“You just…?” Aidan gasped, shocked and more than a little aroused as he realized that not only did Dean come without ever getting hard, but it was also that pinch to his nipple that did it. “Fuckin’ hell, Dean,” he groaned, jerking his hips forward hard just a few more times before he came, crying Dean’s name louder than he should have in a hotel with a room next door. He carefully moved out of the gap between his husband’s legs after that, knowing that forcing them apart for too long could create painful spasms. “Holy shit,” he gasped, reaching off the side of the bed for the washcloth, which he used to wipe off his softening cock before reaching between Dean’s legs to clean him up a little. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I didn’t either,” Dean said, voice raspy and wrecked from crying out so much. “You learn something new every day.” He grinned guiltily. “Our neighbors probably learned something new, too. That’s how disabled gay men sound having sex on their wedding night.”

Aidan laughed softly as he finished cleaning his husband up. “I’m sure that lesson will come in hand for them later on,” he teased, and then sat up a bit straighter. “Here, we should go to the bathroom and plug in your chair before you pass out,” he said, looking over toward their wheelchairs. As wonderful as it would have been to stay up for the whole night, they both knew that it would take its toll on Dean. He needed rest, and they had an entire week to keep going. They could pace themselves. “Want me in my chair to get you down?” he asked, waiting for a nod before he swung off the bed.

After half an hour, the two of them were back in bed, still naked but with freshly brushed teeth and empty bladders. “I love you,” Dean whispered into Aidan’s ear, kissing at his jaw at the younger man reached to turn off the light.

“I love you too.”

* * *

“I am so hungry,” Aidan grumbled as he sat up in bed. The soft light of the curtains made his husband’s skin glow beautifully, but his stomach was rumbling loudly. “Want to get breakfast?”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’m starved,” he answered, pushing his upper body over so that his head leaned against Aidan’s side. “What should we do today, babe?” They had agreed before they had even chosen their honeymoon destination that they would do outdoorsy, touristy things during the day. Constant sex wasn’t feasible; though Dean was a Paralympian and could push through a lot, his penis couldn’t. He’d much rather wander around, taking pictures and kissing and eating with Aidan all day and come back to the hotel at night than get frustrated by his own body as he tried to keep up with his husband.

“Why don’t we go to the Plaza Mayor?” Aidan suggested, making sure Dean was supporting his own weight before he got out of bed to find clothes. “It’s got some cafés, a statue, and we can go a couple blocks away and see a few gorgeous buildings. You can get some great photos there,” he added, noticing Dean’s camera as well as his phone on the bedside table. He grinned. “Camera out in the bedroom? I’ve never heard the like,” he teased, laughing when Dean sputtered indignantly. “Jeans and a t-shirt okay?” he asked, holding up an outfit for his husband’s approval before getting his own and going to unplug Dean’s power chair. “Bathroom, clothes, food?” he suggested as he helped Dean down out of bed.

“And a shower,” Dean added after settling into a comfortable position in his chair. “I’m pretty sure we still smell like semen.”

“Fair point,” Aidan conceded, following Dean into the large bathroom as they moved to start their day.

As usual, it took them over an hour to get ready together, but they didn’t care. They were on vacation, so it didn’t matter at all, and it left plenty of time for kisses and teasing touches. Getting to Plaza Mayor, however, took a while, since they couldn’t quite agree on where it was. By the time they were there, both were far hungrier than they had planned to be, and they stopped in the first café they found that had enough room for their wheelchairs.

Though it was only mid-morning, the plaza was already packed with tourists, and Aidan could see Dean shifting uncomfortably as they drew stares from passers-by. Most were short, repeated glances, from people who wanted to look but didn’t want to be rude, but there were also the outright stares, of people who didn’t realize how wrong that was. While Aidan tended to be more comfortable with stares, due to a lifetime of disability, Dean tended to feel like staring meant that there was something wrong with him. When he saw an older couple openly stare as they walked close to him, he gave them a bright grin. “Just married,” he said cheerfully, feeling a bit bad that he was saying it to make fun of their stares when they offered congratulations.

Dean smiled at his husband warmly. “Thanks,” he said quietly, knowing exactly what Aidan had done. “I wish I could do as well with stares as you do.”

Aidan shrugged. “Almost twenty years of it,” he reminded the blond. “Plus, you balance us out. I can be a bit obnoxious about it when I see it, so at least we both aren’t like that.” He took a sip of his coffee, looking out at the view.

“Um, Aid?” Dean said quietly after a moment. “Can you grab a straw from my bag? My hand is kind of shit today,” he added in explanation, holding up his right hand. While it was usually cooperative, it had clamped down that day, and picking up his cup wasn’t about to happen.

Nodding, Aidan wheeled around behind Dean’s wheelchair to look for a straw in his bag. The backpack hanging off the handles was always a mess, and that day was no exception. Dean’s camera was placed carefully at the top, but everything under it, from an extra t-shirt to his wallet to his medications, turned into a big pile. After a bit of digging, the younger man found the box of straws and pulled one out, which he stuck in Dean’s cup after he zipped up that bag.

“Thanks,” Dean said, leaning down to take a drink. “It’s so beautiful out here. I want to take some pictures of the architecture.” He smiled over at Aidan. “And of us. I know our parents are going to want to see us in Spain. I think I’ll want to show our kid the pictures too, at some point.”

Aidan couldn’t help but break into a huge grin at that. “Our kid,” he repeated, still astonished that the phrase actually applied to them. “Is now a good time to talk names?” he asked, pulling out his phone with every intention of writing down their different ideas in his notes application. “On the plane, you mentioned Irish names,” he began, trying to think of good names from his home country that didn’t have any bad attachments to them--as in, not Kevin, because that Kevin kid in primary school was a colossal douchebag. “Do you still like that idea?”

“Yeah, I do,” Dean answered after finishing a sip of his coffee. “I mean, I’m open to anything, but I thought Irish would be nice. You’re from there, my last name is O’Gorman, and I’ve got some Irish ancestry up in there. Irish names just seem to be logical.” He paused to think. “Okay, I’m just going to start listing what I can think of. There’s Sean, Seamus, Aidan--that’s you--Kevin, Patrick, Liam, Connor, Rory… I can’t think of others but I bet you can.”

Aidan shook his head. “I don’t want to get too obscure. I like Patrick. English spelling, right? I’m not having my kid grow up being called ‘pad-rayg’ or anything like that. He can be Paddy for short--with Ds, not Ts--but I am not inflicting Gaelic spelling on any child not growing up there.” He stopped for a second before finishing, “Patrick Turner O’Gorman.”

With a smile, Dean nodded. “I like that. You sure you don’t want my last name as his middle name?” When Aidan shook his head, the older man bumped their hands together. “We just named our kid. How fucking cool is that?” He smiled up at their waitress as she brought out warm pastries for them. “Gracias,” he said, using up about twenty percent of his Spanish vocabulary.

“De nada,” she answered, smiling. “You said to those people you are just married?” she asked. “Good for you. I will bring you another cookie. You shouldn’t tell!” she added, winking conspiratorially at the two of them.

“Married yesterday,” Aidan explained, grinning proudly when the waitress smiled again and left them to their meal. “I still can’t get over that. Yesterday, we got married. Honest to God, legally, religiously, whatever-else-ly married.” He leaned over and kissed Dean’s cheek sweetly. “When I was a kid, I didn’t think I could get married. Homosexuality was against the law until 1993. Just being gay, not even being married,” he clarified. “I just thought I would never get the church and the special paper, and look at us now. We had church, _and_ a special paper, _and_ a baby on the way.”

Dean smiled. “If that isn’t the start of a happily ever after, then I don’t know what is.”


	26. And the honeymoon continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just feel like it's a fun fact that I finished this chapter from my hospital bed, including the sex. Also I'm positing it from the hospital :)

By early evening, Aidan was utterly worn out. Despite having a Paralympic medal and thus strength and endurance far above average, the Irishman wasn’t used to going up and down hills all day. “Dean, babe, let’s get something to eat and then head back, yeah?” he suggested. Though the older man had kept his wheelchair at a slow speed so as not to push Aidan too hard, he simply wasn’t expending energy at the rate his husband was.

“Of course,” Dean answered. He had noticed that Aidan was slowing down a bit over the past hour, and had planned to suggest going back within the next half-hour himself. “I need to get out of the sun, anyway.” Despite numerous breaks taken by going into churches, shops, and other buildings, he still needed to be careful due to his inability to sweat enough to truly cool down. He was pretty sure it was high time for another break in a place with air conditioning. “Let’s look while heading back toward the hotel, so there’s less of a hike back after,” he said, letting Aidan lead the way so that the younger man could be the one setting the pace.

After a couple slow miles, they were halfway to the hotel and decided to stop for dinner in a small restaurant for tapas. The small dishes were perfect, as they could try different things without over-stuffing themselves. Most of the dishes came with all the food already in bite sized portions, which made it easy for Dean to eat by himself, even with his right hand acting up.

“This is what I get for getting you undressed last night,” Dean muttered with a smile as he carefully worked his fork between tight fingers so that he could hold it well enough to eat. “I go to all that effort, and now my hand isn’t working. All your fault, babe.”

Aidan smiled, but watched closely. “Does it hurt?” he asked, knowing that spasms were less than ideal.

“No.”

“You do realize that you’re a bad liar, right?” Aidan asked with a sigh. “Don’t make a habit of it, okay? It was great, but I’d rather you be comfortable the next day rather than take my shirt off for me.” He leaned over and kissed Dean’s nose as the older man rolled his eyes. “Thank you,” he added, knowing that the mumbles from next to him were of assent.

A spasm whipped through Dean’s arm, gone in a flash but leaving his fork somewhere on the ground and his mouth set in a pained grimace. “Speak of the fucking devil,” he groaned, taking a few deep breaths to continue past the frustration and pain of a sudden spasm. “Okay, pain. Yeah. That is definitely pain,” he muttered, trying to use the side of his chair to rub the sore muscle but failing.

“Let me,” Aidan said softly, waiting for a nod of agreement before carefully massaging Dean’s upper arm. “Do you think you’ll be fine til we get back?” he asked, voice still quiet. People had looked over at the clatter of the fork falling, and were slow to turn back to their own meals. “I don’t want you to have a spasm while steering.” He grinned, trying to make Dean smile with him. “I mean, you’d be fine, but it would be pretty sad if you ran over a little old lady.”

Dean gave a little laugh through the pain, nodding slowly. “I should be good. We need to get back so I can get out of my chair, though. I think being in one position all day is what’s making it act up. Well,” he amended, “that and the whole shirt thing from last night.”

After finishing their dinners and making their way back to the hotel, the two men found themselves spilling tiredly through the door to their room. “How are you feeling?” Aidan asked, stretching out his arms.

“Like I should pee,” Dean answered, heading into the bathroom and waiting for Aidan to follow. He maneuvered onto the toilet with some help from his husband, got his pants down, and yawned as he began to pee. “Okay, yeah, tourist things are great, but I’m thinking tomorrow needs to be a lazy day,” he told the younger man, grinning when dark curls bobbed in agreement. “Can we lie down after this? I need to get my circulation working right again before we can even think about sex.”

Aidan grinned, leaning over and kissing the Kiwi’s cheek. “You can lie down and all, but I’m still going to be thinking about sex,” he informed his husband cheerfully. “We’ve got a bag full of sex toys from my friends, and I plan to use at least a couple while we’re here. Once we’re back, we’re going to be working hard for a bit and then we’ll have a newborn. There will be way less time for sex toys when we have a baby.”

“Oh, man, we just have a few months to buy all the baby stuff we need,” Dean groaned as he finished up and maneuvered back into his chair and headed to the sink to wash his hands. “Okay, not thinking about that. After the honeymoon, I can get stressed about that.”

“Yeah, give yourself a week where you aren’t freaking out about something,” Aidan told the older man, using the bathroom himself before washing his hands and heading over to the bed. As easy-going and… New Zealand-y as Dean was, the blond tended to get stuck in his stress sometimes, and all the Irishman wanted was for his husband to have a nice break from everything. Okay, and sex. He also wanted sex. In his defense, this was their honeymoon.

Dean nodded, leaning into Aidan’s shoulder briefly. “I know. Worrying about things isn’t allowed right now,” he said with a smile. “Help me into bed?” he requested, using his arms to push himself up and off of his husband’s shoulder.

“Always,” Aidan replied sincerely, getting his husband into bed with practiced ease. As tired as he felt, and sore throughout his arms, he was able to help Dean without any major problems, other than a bit of pain. “How are you feeling?” he asked, knowing that the sun could be too much for Dean sometimes.

“I’m fine. You, on the other hand, look like you’re about to drop,” Dean answered, smiling. “We’re taking it easy tomorrow, because you’re going to be sore as fuck in the morning.

Aidan groaned quietly. “I’m already sore,” he admitted. “That was a long day. I feel like you need to cuddle me to make me feel better.”

Dean snorted. “Usually you ask for a little more than cuddling to make you comfortable,” he teased, but happily pulled Aidan to his chest once the younger man pulled himself into bed. “If you’re too tired for anything strenuous, I can give you a blowjob,” he said conversationally. “That won’t take any work from you, but orgasms give endorphins which would help with pain.”

Laughing, Aidan pushed himself up from Dean’s chest. “You know, that’s a good point. My coach always talks about endorphins. So, guess I’ll just have to accept your offer,” he teased, shifting in the bed to rub his hips against Dean’s as he leaned down to kiss the Kiwi slowly.

It only took a couple of seconds for Dean to heat up their kiss, going from soft lips and wandering tongues to panting through their noses for breath as they pressed up close together. Though Dean couldn’t feel where Aidan was grinding on his hips, they had been together so long that he could tell the other man was hard just by the little sounds he was making. “Let me get my neck propped up right, okay?” he asked, breaking apart from Aidan’s mouth as he wormed his way into a better position, sitting up a bit more so that he wouldn’t have to strain his neck to suck his husband down.

“Yeah,” Aidan mumbled, moving off the older man to give him more room to move. “You want to get off after?” he asked, knowing that there were days when Dean was too tired or had more trouble with sensation.

“We’ll see after, yeah?” Dean suggested, tugging at Aidan’s pants in a hint to the brunet to pull them off. Once they were down around his thighs, Dean pushed his hands against Aidan’s’ ass to bring him close enough that he could suck gently at the head of his erection.

“Fuck,” Aidan breathed out softly. “You’re a tease tonight, aren’t you?” he added, smirking as Dean fluttered his eyelashes while looking up coyly. “Bastard,” he said lovingly, stroking a hand through the blond hair at his waist. “Fuck!” he growled, hips thrusting forward unconsciously as Dean sucked him in further, his cock sinking into the hot mouth to nudge at the back of the older man’s throat.

Proud of himself for surprising the other man, Dean scratched the fingernails of his right hand across the skin of Aidan’s ass. He pulled off the erection in front of him for a moment to take in some sharp, rushed breaths. “Like it?” he asked cheekily, smirking when Aidan just groaned, clearly frustrated at the loss of sensation, his cock shiny with spit and precome.

“Come on,” Aidan whined, hips hitching forward. “Please, babe? Think of the endorphins,” he added, making his husband laugh before his mouth sank onto him once more. “Yeah, like that,” he moaned, fingers massaging Dean’s scalp as he thrust gently, mostly letting the suction get him off, rather than trying to fuck his throat. “Fuck, Dean, you’re so good at this, baby. So fucking good,” he mumbled, head tipping back at an especially hard suck.

Dean moved his right hand slightly, pushing gently into Aidan’s crack to rub his knuckles against the younger man’s entrance, making him gasp loudly above him. Smiling as much as he could around a mouthful of hard cock, Dean sucked even harder as he massaged the tight muscle as much as he could without risking losing control of his fingers and pushing too hard.

“Holy fuck!” Aidan cried out, moaning loudly as he gripped Dean’s soft hair even harder and came down the older man’s throat, gasping for breath as he slowly came down from his orgasm. “Dean,” he mumbled, letting himself slide down his husband’s body before pulling his pants up and snuggling close. “God. You’re good at that,” he whispered, kissing softly at the older man’s lips, red and full from giving such enthusiastic head.

“Good to know,” Dean panted, stroking his arm up Aidan’s back. When the younger man slid a hand down his torso toward his groin, he shook his head. “Not tonight,” he mumbled, yawning. “The sun tired me out too much. I’m not up for it.”

Aidan nodded understandingly, and used his hand to rub soothing circles over Dean’s chest, which started to rise and fall a little slower as he regained his breath. “Do you want to sleep?” he asked. “I know it’s early, but I’m beat.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered with a slow nod. “By the time we brush our teeth and me totally undressed, it’ll be closer to actual bedtime anyway.”

Aidan gave his husband one last soft kiss before sliding off the bed and into his wheelchair. “I fucking love you,” he said conversationally as he helped Dean from the bed to his chair.

“Love you too,” the older man answered with a small smile on his face.


	27. Preparing for the BABY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NOT written from a hospital bed. See, I live an exciting life of lots of different places. This was written from my regular bed. Thanks for all the good wishes, guys. I'm in and out of the hospital for treatments for pain, mostly, so I'm still training and everything. Also, I just got super excited about writing about this baby so YAY BABY. He'll be born soon and then everything will be disabled parent fluff and some sports and whatnot.
> 
> I always welcome suggestions, by the way, and I know that a lot of people have commented that they want to see more sport. I'm not going to flashback to Rio, but I am going to put in some competitions that take place between Paralympic games. There's stuff happening all the time!

Honeymoons were great and all, Dean reflected as he rolled out onto the track, but it was so good to be back to training. Spending a week in and out of bed all day had been wonderful, but he had genuinely missed getting in his racing chair and doing a few sprints. He would have felt guilty for the thought, but Aidan had confessed to missing rugby. Anyway, he had been over a week in only his power chair, and he had felt sluggish and frustrated by the time they got back. He gave Luke a little nod as the Welshman gave him a quick thumbs up, and he started out with a couple warm-up laps, taking it one stroke at a time.

After a couple hours, he was pleased to see that some of members of the teenage team he coached had arrived early, and he felt a bit of pride at their rather awed faces. “Hey, guys,” he called out, slowing down and coming to a stop in front of them. “Miss me?”

A few of the kids nodded, and one piped up, “Our supply coach was boring,” making the others groan in agreement.

“Did she make you work hard?” Dean asked, getting a couple shrugs in return. “I’ll have to whip you all back in shape, then. I’ve got to get you guys self-sufficient in running practice before my kid is born. Once he’s here, I’m going to be watching and correcting, and not so hands on.”

* * *

When he got home in the evening, Aidan was exhausted. He had not only done a morning workout and a full day of work, but he had also swung by the shopping center to pick up a few baby supplies. Though they were still a couple months away from the birth, he wasn’t going to leave anything until the last minute; if their baby were premature, he and Dean would need all this stuff soon. “Hey, babe,” he called out, struggling through the door with a large box carrying the parts of the yet-to-be-assembled crib. “How was your day?” he added, dumping the box in the nursery and heading to the kitchen, where Dean and Luke were cooking.

“Great,” Dean answered enthusiastically. “If I keep improving like I have been, I’ve got a shot at breaking a world record. How cool would that be?”

“Very,” Aidan said seriously, kissing his husband’s nose. “I’m tired, but I was thinking we could build the crib tonight. We might as well get everything done as we get it, you know? It’s going to pile up if we don’t.”

Luke glanced up from the beef he was chopping up. “Do you want me to help with that?” he asked; assembling furniture was hard for even the most abled of people, and with the fact that Dean and Aidan each only had one functioning hand, the couple would be at a disadvantage from the start.

The Kiwi shrugged. “Eh, we’ll try it by ourselves tonight. If we can’t do it, we’ll ask for your help tomorrow.” He smiled widely as he continued stirring the sauce he was working on, which bubbled gently in the pan. “How was your day?” he asked Aidan, noticing the younger man’s clearly weary expression.

“Long,” the brunet answered honestly. “I went to the gym, worked on some mind-numbingly boring crap, and then went to get some baby stuff. I’m beat.” He stretched his arms over his head. He had showered between the gym and work, so he was clean enough, but he was desperate to be out of his stuffy work clothes. “I’m going to change, yeah?”

The other two men went back to cooking, and Aidan rolled over to the bedroom and dug through the drawers to find a comfortable shirt and a pair of gym shorts. He pulled off his suit slowly, hanging the coat and pants back up and putting his shirt in the laundry pile. Once done with that, he slid into his clean, relaxed clothes and headed back into the kitchen to help his husband and Luke in any way they needed. It turned out, however, that the two men had finished the preparation and were now just waiting for the beef to cook. “Luke, are you staying for dinner?” he asked, pulling a bottle of juice of the refrigerator and pouring himself a glass.

The Welshman shook his head. “Dean already showered, and he said you’d help him get in bed. If you’re too tired, I can stay, though.”

“It’s fine,” Aidan answered easily after draining half his glass of orange juice. “You go have fun. We’ve got a crib to put together and sleep to catch up on.”

Luke smirked. “Not enough sleep on your honeymoon?” he teased. “I’m going to go once this is on the table, since it’s too hot to carry.”

“You can head out now, if you want,” Aidan offered, rolling over toward the stove. “I’ll get it all into a bowl I can carry without burning myself. If it’s okay with you,” he added to Dean, looking carefully to see if the older man seemed comfortable with the idea. Though he was Dean’s husband, the decision of whether or not Luke needed to stay was not up to Aidan.

“It’s fine. Go have some fun or something,” Dean said cheerfully, practically shooing Luke out the door before coming back to the kitchen to lean on Aidan. “Are we actually going to try to put this crib together tonight?” he asked, wondering if such a feat were even possible for him.

Aidan nodded, turning the burner under the sauce off so it wouldn’t burn as he began to sear the beef. “We don’t have to, if you don’t feel up to it,” he said. “It’s going to be hard, and we both had long days. It’s all up to you.” He kissed his husband’s forehead gently, mostly just getting his hair. “We can always get someone to help us. It doesn’t even have to be Luke. I know Adam would be happy, or Richard or someone.”

After a moment’s thought, Dean shrugged. “I’m happy to try it,” he said slowly. “I’m just not really optimistic about our chances of managing it. I have never managed to put together a piece of furniture in my life, Aid. Over twenty-five years and I can’t figure that shit out.” He sat up straight as he remembered something. “Oh, I got some papers from Anna today,” he said, wheeling to the table to find the small pile of pages from the birth mother of their child. “She sent us some family history of illness, for when he needs that for medical forms and stuff. She also put in a few pages she printed off about Korea. She seemed a bit worried that it wasn’t her place, but I think it’s a good idea. He should know about his heritage, yeah?”

Aidan nodded in agreement, glancing up as Dean waved the papers around to show him where they were. “I think it’s a good idea,” he answered simply. “I’ll read over those later, and we should scan them into my computer to have back-ups and then file them somewhere so we can’t lose them. Medical background is going to be important for him later, and after the birth, there’s no more communication with Anna.”

“My mum told me she’s going to look for some picture books about Korea,” Dean commented, putting the papers on the coffee table by Aidan’s computer before heading back to the kitchen area to set the table. “Mostly history and traditions and stuff. I want him to know a bit about his ethnic heritage from the start, so it’s never a question for him. He can know his biological roots are Korean, and he can learn as much or as little as he wants. I mean, he’s got two white parents, and I just want him to feel like he can figure out his own identity and ethnicity and… whatever.”

Aidan smiled warmly at Dean as he continued cooking the beef. “Already a good dad,” he commented softly. “I know you’re worried about every tiny detail, but let’s focus on the really early stuff, yeah? We’ll get the crib set up tonight or tomorrow, and we’ll do the weird baby shower thing that Graham decided to throw for us. We can wait til he’s born before we start thinking about his first wheelchair, much less how to teach him about his biological heritage as well as ours.” He poked the meat with a fork to test its doneness, and then started putting everything on a plate to take to the table. “Come on, babe, let’s eat."

* * *

Adam was practically bouncing as he went into Dean and Aidan’s apartment. While the space was big enough for the two men, and would easily fit their child as well, it got a little cramped when they added in a lot of friends with various baby supplies. Glancing around, he could see that Richard and Graham were talking happily with Aidan as Dean and Luke hung out with James. “Hey guys!” he chirruped happily, putting a nicely wrapped present on the table along with an unwrapped package of diapers before heading over to the couch to sit next to Graham.

“Ads!” Aidan yelled happily, leaning halfway out of his chair to hug the other man. “Thanks for coming, man.”

“This is going to be great,” Adam enthused. “Baby stuff! I love babies. Other people’s babies are great, because you just get the benefits, like buying tiny little clothes and snuggling them, but you don’t have to deal with the poop and the crying.” He glanced over at the table. “I got some nappies, but I wasn’t sure if you needed a special kind,” he added, nodding toward the package.

“Special kind?”

Adam smiled. “I guess not, then. I was trying to figure out how far up his legs ended, and what that would mean for nappies. Like, if they don’t form at all below the hips, a nappy wouldn’t stay on.”

The Irishman shook his head. “They end about halfway down the thigh,” he explained. “He’ll have enough leg for regular nappies and clothes to fit him.” He grinned. “My ma gave us about a million little clamp things so we can adjust the legs on his sleepers without using pins that could poke him. I think it’s just things with legs we’ll need to adjust.”

“Do you want something to eat or drink, Adam?” Richard asked, standing up from the couch. “I’m just going to grab some more tea, but there are some sandwiches if you want one.” He had left his cane propped by the front door, having been over to the apartment a few times and knowing the layout. The cane was often more of a hassle than it was worth, so he simply listened closely and moved carefully.

“Yeah, a sandwich would be great,” the younger man answered, relaxing back into the couch as the goalball player slowly maneuvered around wheelchairs and furniture to get to the counter. He returned relatively quickly, holding a plate with a sandwich for Adam in one hand and a cup full of tea in the other. “Thanks!” Adam said happily, taking a bite immediately.

James cleared his throat loudly, making conversation die out. “I vote these fuckers open their presents, and then we can just hang out for a while and help them figure out the nursery,” he announced. “We are all very manly athletes and everything, but I’m sure we can figure out how to organize baby clothes. Sound good?” When there were noises of agreement, he went to the table and began to sort through everything. “Looks like everyone brought nappies, so you’ll have a lot of those,” he said, mostly for Richard’s benefit, as he moved the packages of disposable diapers to the side of the table and instead stacked up the presents to dump on his friends’ laps; two for Dean and two for Aidan.

The younger of the couple went first, opening a messily wrapped package from James. “It’s a sleeper with shorts instead of long pants and feet so we don’t have to roll it up!” he said excitedly, describing the item as well as he could for Richard. “And green, for Ireland, I supposed,” he added cheerfully, putting the outfit down on the table.

“It’s for seven to nine months, too, so you’ll have some clothes once he grows a bit,” James added; as an experienced parent, he had known what was important. As great as all the tiny newborn stuff was, they would need bigger sizes too.

Dean went next, pulling out Richard’s package and carefully tearing the paper away with stiff fingers. “Oh, thanks, Rich!” he said brightly, holding up a blanket. It had a simple plaid pattern, but was possibly the softest thing he had ever touched. “This is so comfortable, I’d steal it if it were bigger,” he added, passing it around.

“Blind people are experts at texture,” Richard said with a shrug, his ears turning a bit pink as Aidan thanked him.

Graham had gotten a stuffed whale and a mobile for the crib, and Adam had given them a couple outfits for the upcoming winter. A September baby was going to end up in the gross British winter while still pretty tiny, and everyone was suitably impressed by how cute and tiny baby coats were. “You guys are the best,” Dean said honestly, hugging each of his friends in turn as the group made their way to the nursery, squeezing in as best as they could. Graham and Adam dragged in chairs and sat down with Dean in front of the bookshelf that was being used to store clothes and toys, starting to put things away as Aidan, James, Richard, and Luke tried to figure out how to put up the changing table.

All in all, Dean couldn’t believe how great his friends were. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he, Graham, and Adam stacked little outfits in categories of size and type of clothing in their bookshelf. Life was pretty fucking sweet.


	28. And a baby makes three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

It was just after eight in the morning when Dean and Aidan saw their son for the first time. Anna had gone into labor in the earliest hours of the morning, and the two men had rushed to the hospital, only to realize that labor could take a really long time. They had previously agreed that they would not be in the delivery room; they had not seen Anna in a few weeks and never would again, despite being so truly indebted to her. Instead, they had waited around in the labor and delivery ward with a handful of other anxious-looking people, mumbling to each other and drinking cup after cup of coffee. After Patrick was born, he was taken to be cleaned off and weighed, and the two men were allowed to follow a nurse back into a small room.

“He’s very healthy,” an older doctor said, smiling and holding out a tiny bundle. Aidan took it immediately, and looked into the blankets to see a tiny red face peeking out, eyes closed in sleep.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice cracking a little with emotion. “Hi, Patrick. You’re a beautiful little guy, aren’t you?”

Dean pulled his chair up as close to Aidan’s as he could, leaning on his husband in order to see their son as well as he could. “He’s perfect,” he mumbled, reaching out a shaky finger to touch his cheek. “You’re the best little boy in the world,” he added to his son, smiling widely.

“We just need to put his name on the birth certificate and we’ll be done with paperwork,” the nurse explained, pulling out a sheaf of paper and letting the two men help her spell out the baby’s name. “Lovely. You two can stay with him for now. There’s a button over there,” she added, gesturing toward the wall, “if you need anything, and there will be nurses in and out to check on you and to bring formula when it’s time for him to eat, okay?” She smiled and left the room, listening as the two men began cooing and whispering to their sleeping son again.

“Here, let me take the first picture,” Dean said, digging his camera out of his backpack and snapping a few photos: one of Patrick’s sleeping face, one of Patrick in general, and a couple of Aidan holding him. He put his camera down on the table after that and sighed happily. “We have a kid,” he mumbled, unable to stop smiling. “He’s perfect.”

Aidan smiled. “Come here, Dean,” he said quietly, holding their son out. Once his husband was close enough, he placed the baby in his arms, watching happily as Dean immediately brought him close to his chest. “Beautiful,” he commented, taking a couple pictures with Dean’s camera as well. Though the older man’s hands weren’t dexterous and his arms were stiff, he could hold their son easily and safely, and Aidan could tell it meant the world to him. “He’s such a cute little guy, isn’t he?” he asked softly. “I can’t believe he’s ours.”

“Yeah,” Dean whispered dreamily, looking down at the tiny boy in his arms and watching as he slept.

“I’m going to email our parents, okay?” Aidan said, pulling out his phone and opening his email before composing a short message.

_Hi, everyone!_

_This morning, at 7:48, a tiny little guy named Patrick Turner O’Gorman was born here in London. He’s completely healthy and probably the cutest baby to ever exist. He’s wonderful and we absolutely love him._

_Love,_

_Aidan, Dean, and Patrick_

He took a quick picture with his phone and attached it to the message, sending it off before putting his phone down and going back to admiring their son. “His leg stumps are a bit smaller than I expected,” he said after a moment, noticing that barely any leg poked out through the leg holes in the diaper. “I’d thought they would develop to half the length of an average thigh, but I think those are shorter.”

Dean nodded after a moment’s observation. “I guess they developed a little less than predicted,” he said, clearly not concerned. “The left one’s a bit longer than the right, I think,” he added, squinting down as he tried to tell if he was right or just seeing things from a weird angle. “Whatever. We’ll figure it all out as we adjust his clothes for him.” He smiled, but jumped a little when the tiny, cute little guy in his arms let out a scream louder than anything that size should produce.

“I think he’s hungry,” Aidan said, looking around wildly for a moment before a nurse stepped in with a bottle of formula. “Oh, thanks,” he said, relieved that they had something to feed their distraught little son. When Dean held out their son, he took him and popped the bottle in his mouth. It took a couple tries, but eventually Patrick quieted down and began to eat. “There’s a good boy.”

“Do you have any idea when we can take him home?” Dean asked, unsure how this would work. He was pretty sure that there was no reason Patrick would need to stay long, but he didn’t know if the hospital would pitch a fit about them leaving without a few days observation since their son was born with what was technically termed a “defect”.

“I’ll talk to the main doctor, but I think it will be today. Since neither of you actually went through labor, we don’t have to worry about any of that. We’ll be running a few tests throughout the day, but the only thing out of the ordinary about his birth so far is his legs, and we already knew that was happening,” the nurse replied, giving the two men a smile before heading out to find Patrick’s doctor.

Aidan grinned at Dean even as he rocked Patrick gently. “Today?” he repeated incredulously. “We might have this little guy sleeping in his crib tonight. Oh, my God.” He sniffed a little, unable to help himself. They had a baby now, and he couldn’t be happier. “You’ll like home, Paddy. We have a special little room for you, with your own crib and your own clothes, and we’ll be right near you all the time. When you grow up a bit, you’ll get your very own wheelchair, just like Daddy and I have.”

The two men tore their eyes from their son when they heard a knock at the door. The doctor they had met before stepped in, smiling widely. “You’ll be able to take him home this evening,” he announced, happy to see the ecstatic look on the new fathers’ faces at the news. “We want to take his vitals a few times throughout the day, but he’s definitely healthy so we’re happy to let you take him home. Congratulations,” he added before he stepped out to check on another family, leaving the nurse, Claire, in the room with them.

“Okay, so there are some changing supplies over there,” she explained, pointing to a small changing area in the corner of the room, “and that’s the crib for him, if you want to put him down. I know you probably don’t, but you can let him sleep there for a bit while you eat and call your families and friends later. Let us know if you need anything,” she added before stepping out to continue her rounds.

After a few minutes, when Patrick was back asleep, Aidan handed him back off to Dean and checked his email. “Both of our parents emailed us back!” he said excitedly, and opened up the first one--from his own parents--to read aloud. “Dear Aidan, Dean, and Patrick,” he began, smiling widely. “He looks beautiful! We’re so happy for you and can’t wait to meet our grandson. Is this weekend a good time to come over? We’ll take the ferry over and just help out around the house as much as you need us to. Tell Patrick we already love him! Congratulations. Love you all!” He looked down at Patrick. “Hear that, buddy? Your grandparents already love you a lot.” He moved onto the email from Dean’s parents. “Congratulations! Keep sending us pictures, because it will probably be a month before we can fly over there to meet him in person. He looks absolutely darling, and we’re proud of you for starting your family. Skype with us sometime soon so we can meet him!”

Dean grinned widely, rocking gently from side to side with Patrick in his arms as he listened to Aidan reading the emails out loud. “That’s sweet,” he said happily. “Your parents coming this weekend would be perfect. We’ll have a few days alone with him, but they’ll rescue us this weekend when we’re too sleep-deprived to function like normal humans.”

“Yeah, you’re going to keep us up all night, aren’t you? Aren’t you?” Aidan asked Patrick, smiling. He didn’t care if he didn’t sleep a wink for the next year; he was too happy that he and Dean had a kid to care about things like sleep.

“I’m thinking we can trade off who trains for a few days before you go back to work,” Dean suggested, thinking a little. They had decided that the best option was for Aidan to go back to work while Dean worked from home, with Luke getting paid overtime salary when he took Dean and Patrick to the track for practice. For the first month, however, Aidan was going to work half the day from home on the days that Dean coached, since Patrick needed a bit of an immune system before he could go out to the track. The first week would see both of them working from home, though, so training would be easy to switch back and forth. Aidan had practice three days of the week, and Dean could train at any point during the day and had finagled the practices he coached for the next month to be on the days that his husband didn’t have practice. Their calendar looked like a box of colored pens had exploded on it, but they were figuring it out, little by little.

For the next few hours, they took turns feeding and changing Patrick, and they were both pleased with how easily Dean could manage both tasks. It was obviously still a more laborious and time-consuming process for him that it was for Aidan or anyone with unimpaired arm and hand movement, but it was possible and didn’t jostle Patrick in the slightest. When afternoon started to turn to evening, the doctor came in and smiled at the little family, with the two men cooing over the small child. “You are free to sign some release papers and take him home,” he said, happy, as always, to see the new parents’ faces light up in excitement. “Congratulations again. Have a good evening.”

“Thank you,” Dean said softly, handing Patrick back to Aidan so that the younger man could put him into his car seat and buckle him in before placing the plastic carrier in his husband’s lap, so that he could hold it with one hand while using the other to steer his power chair through the halls of the hospital to the nurse’s station to check out and make an appointment for Patrick’s first check up.

“We’re home!” Aidan crowed when he opened the door to their apartment to let Dean go through the door while carrying Patrick’s car seat. “Want to see your room, sweetie? Why don’t we take a tour before you get to try out your very own bed?” he suggested, smiling down at his son, who was sleeping. “He can have a tour while he sleeps, right?” he asked Dean, who nodded indulgently. “Right, well, here’s the kitchen,” he said, leading the way. The counter was crowded, with baby bottles littering the surface so as to be within easy reach. “And this is the living room, right here,” he added, pointing to the room that connected to the kitchen, separated just by the counter. “Now let’s see your daddies’ room!”

Dean grinned as he took Patrick with him into the main bedroom. “Here’s where we sleep, see?” he said, pointing cheerfully even though their son wasn’t awake to see him. “We’ve got a big bed that we can all snuggle in sometimes.” He backed out of the room and headed, finally, to the nursery. “Here’s your room, little buddy!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got a crib, and a changing table, and all sorts of toys!” He handed the car seat to Aidan, who unhooked Patrick and carefully lowered him into the crib, trying and succeeding in keeping the little boy asleep. He covered him with the blanket from Richard, tucking the corners around him to keep him warm.

“He’s so cute,” the Irishman commented, grabbing the receiver of the baby monitor before rolling quietly out of the nursery and toward the kitchen, hearing the soft noise of Dean’s chair following behind him. “I’m going to make us a bunch of food, okay? I want us to have leftovers to keep around for when we’re too tired to make anything the rest of the week,” he explained as he pushed himself up to reach a box of pasta and a pan. “When we go to the store next, we should pick up some chicken salad and tuna or whatever for easy-to-make sandwiches. Plus we can take them to practice,” he added brightly as he started the water for the pasta on the stove.

Next to him, Dean was just grinning dreamily. “Sorry, I would have been listening, but we have a kid,” he said once he realized Aidan was looking at him expectantly. “Did you say anything important?” he asked, leaning a little so he could kiss his husband’s cheek apologetically. When Aidan shook his head, he just kept leaning on him. “I love you, babe.”

“I love you too,” Aidan replied, gently pushing Dean up to support himself so that he could move away and pull out some sauce to put on the pasta. “I’m thinking tomato sauce and then we can throw in different veggies and stuff,” he suggested as he grabbed the jar of tomato sauce to warm up, and began to tug at the stubborn top. “Shite,” he muttered as he spilled pasta sauce on himself, and groaned when a little cry came over the monitor.

Dean grinned, looking at his messy husband. “If you clean yourself up fast enough, can you fix up a bottle?” he asked as he wheeled out of the room and to the nursery. “Hey, little buddy,” he cooed as he saw Patrick crying loudly in the crib. “Come here, sweetie, Daddy’s got you.” He carefully leaned down to pick his son up, using one hand to support the infant’s head as the other pushed his own body up. “Let’s see what you need, my little man,” he whispered, rocking gently as he pushed at his joystick and headed toward the changing table first. “Do you need a new nappy?” he asked, sniffing a little. “Yeah, I think you do. Let’s get you changed and then we can go and get a nice bottle for you. Does that sound good to my little Patrick? That sound good?” he continued to coo happily to his son as he changed him. Patrick’s cries diminished a little, but the tears continued to stream down his tiny face. “Okay, let’s get some food for you!” he announced when the old nappy was in the trash and Patrick was nice and clean.

“There are my two favorite men in the whole wide world!” Aidan exclaimed happily when he saw Dean rolling out with Patrick in his arm. The Irishman was shirtless, having decided that his tomato-covered shirt was a lost cause, and he had a bottle in his hand. “Here we go,” he muttered, kissing Patrick’s forehead as he took him from Dean, cradling the baby against his chest and popping the bottle into his mouth. It took a little while for him accept the nipple, but he eventually began to drink, tears slowing and stopping as he was rocked and fed. “That’s better, isn’t it? Yeah, you’re a happy little guy now, aren’t you?”

Even after Patrick fell asleep again, his parents didn’t feel like putting him back to bed. Aidan handed the little boy back to Dean so that he could work on cooking, and Dean just rocked him as they talked quietly about when they should ask Luke to come back. “I think we’re okay for tonight, but it would be hard for you to help me with my full routine in the morning while we have Patrick to care for. Is it okay with you if I ask him to come back tomorrow?” He looked a little worried at the idea of bringing in his PCA so soon, but he knew it was the safest and best plan for the whole family.

Aidan nodded as he poured dried pasta into the boiling water. “Yeah, that will probably make things easier. If you want, you can tell him to bring a book or his computer or something, so that we still have family time for most the day,” he suggested, and then frowned. “Is that rude, though?”

“I usually don’t need help all day,” Dean pointed out. “I can ask him to come to help me get in and out of bed, and maybe once during the day in case I need anything. He’ll understand that we want it to be the three of us,” he added, looking down at Patrick happily. “Can you dial him on the phone and put the phone at my ear?” he asked, knowing he didn’t have the dexterity to pull his phone from his pocket while still holding his son.

After a quick stir of the sauce, Aidan pulled out his phone and found Luke’s number. He pressed the button to call, and held the phone to Dean’s ear, his free hand still stirring the sauce a little, worried about burning the bottom. It only took Dean a couple minutes to set up the next couple days with Luke; the weekend wouldn’t be a problem, since Aidan’s parents would be there.

Dean grinned and kissed Aidan as the younger man took back his phone. “I love you,” he whispered. “We just made the best little family in the world.”

“Yeah,” Aidan breathed, grinning. “Yeah, we did.”


	29. One Day Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> baby!

“Dean,” Aidan muttered, transferring back into the bed as his husband watched through half-lidded eyes, “when Luke comes, we’re going to move Patrick’s crib in here.”

The older man grinned tiredly. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning on Aidan’s shoulder as the brunet got in beside him. “I can help more if he’s in here, since you could hand him to me to feed.” He was feeling bad that Aidan had been in and out of bed all night, but Dean had stayed under the covers. It made no sense for the New Zealander to get up, as Aidan would have had to get up and help him transfer. “We didn’t think this through, did we?” he asked, chuckling quietly.

Aidan shook his head. “We really didn’t,” he agreed, turning his face to kiss Dean’s hair softly. He groaned when he glanced over at the clock. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, unable to believe that the night had somehow already passed despite their lack of sleep. “Luke is going to be here any minute. How is it 7:30?”

“How do babies need to eat so often?” Dean asked, carefully pushing himself up into a bit of a sitting position. “I mean, I know that he’s going to grow really fast for a while, but man, he eats a lot of that formula.” He snuggled over to Aidan as the younger man mumbled in agreement. “Mm, that’s probably Luke telling me he’s coming in,” he said as his phone trilled with a text message. “He didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake Patrick up.”

Luke knocked gently on the frame of the open door to the bedroom, grinning as he poked in. “Did you get any sleep?” he asked as he walked into the room, noticing how tired both men looked.

“A bit,” Aidan answered, making sure that Dean was supporting his own weight before slipping away from the older man to get into his own wheelchair. After getting in and out of bed all night, he had ended up in warm pajama pants, cut off to the right length, rather than just his boxers. “Are you going to shower or just get up?” he asked his husband, yawning.

After a moment of thought, Dean replied, “I’ll just get up. Mm, Luke, we need your help moving the crib into our room once I’m okay, okay?”

“The whole crib?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. “We might have to take it apart. Do you have a bassinet or something? That way you can wait and move it this weekend when both of Aid’s parents are here to help,” he suggested.

“That’s a way better idea,” Aidan said, looking a bit sheepish that he hadn’t thought of it before. “I’ll go get that,” he added, pulling a shirt on and heading out of the bedroom.

Luke smiled at Dean as he walked over to the dresser. “I can’t believe you guys have a baby,” he commented, opening the drawers. “T-shirt and jeans?” he asked, holding up the clothes he was talking about to get them okayed by the other man. When Dean nodded, the Welshman walked back to the bed and sat down to help the blond get dressed.

“Yeah, Patrick’s really cute,” Dean said, grinning widely as his PCA carefully maneuvered his legs into the soft jeans. “Thanks for coming today. Sorry it’s a weird day for hours, but I think after this, you can head out until one, and then come back at maybe ten for bed. I’ll shower in the afternoon.”

“Sounds good,” Luke replied. “It’s giving me some extra hours.” He finished up on Dean’s jeans and moved onto his shirt. “All I require is that I get to hold your baby at some point.”

“Definitely,” Aidan interjected as he came back into the bedroom, a lightweight bassinet on his lap. “Think of it as a bonus for working weird-ass hours this week.” He put the bassinet on the ground, and immediately set about moving things off the top of the low dresser. Once he had room, he placed the bassinet on the surface. “Is this a good place for you to reach, babe?” he asked, twisting around to talk to his husband.

Dean nodded, working hard to loop a stiff arm around Luke’s shoulder so that the younger man could lift him into his power chair. “Hey, we’ll go fast so you can have a nap, Aid,” he promised, using his right wrist to push the switch to turn his chair on. He led Luke into the bathroom, leaving the door open to give them more room to move around. Luckily, he was spitting water out after brushing his teeth by the time he heard a cry. “I’ve got him, babe, get back in bed,” the older man called out to his exhausted husband, and he steered into the nursery.

He picked Patrick up carefully, kissing his forehead. “Hey, buddy, this is Luke,” he said cheerfully as he gently rocked the baby in one arm. “Yeah, say hi,” he added, unable to stop smiling as Luke looked ecstatically at Patrick. “Here, let’s go to the kitchen to feed him.” He curled Patrick close into his chest and pushed the joystick of his chair to go toward the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Aidan had a piece of toast in one hand and a warm bottle in the other. “I don’t think I can really just sleep,” he admitted as he handed Dean the bottle so the older man could feed their son. “I thought I’d put on a movie and we could just hang out.”

“Okay,” Dean said as he made sure he had the bottle gripped securely before he tipped it for Patrick, not wanting to drop it on the tiny boy’s face. He doubted very much that his husband would actually be able to stay awake through more than half an hour of the movie he was putting on, but he didn’t say anything about it. He simply cooed down at Patrick as Aidan threw a movie in the DVD player and transferred onto the couch. “Hey, once he’s done eating you can hold him,” Dean said quietly to Luke.

The Welshman’s face lit up as he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he said, grinning widely. “He’s such a cute little guy,” he added, looking at the tiny face in Dean’s arms as Patrick sucked at his bottle. Despite being just a day old, the infant had a tuft of silky black hair that was long enough to be a little messy, and his eyes looked up curiously and blinked around.

“He is,” Dean agreed softly, pulling the bottle out of Patrick’s mouth as he finished. “Here, Luke,” he said, waiting for his PCA to reach out and carefully take the tiny baby from his arms. “There we go,” he whispered, smiling as the brunet pulled Patrick into his chest. “See, Paddy? That’s Luke!”

“Hi, little guy,” the Welshman cooed, rocking his upper body back and forth. “You’re a lucky boy, to have parents like this, you know that? They love you so much already, buddy, and you’re just a day old. That’s not very old at all.”

Dean laughed softly. “No, it’s not,” he said. “It’s pretty darn young, really.” He pushed his stiff hands onto his armrests and adjusted his position in his chair as well as he could. He let himself relax and just watch as Patrick’s eyes slid closed and his mouth fell open as he started to sleep once more.

“I should head out,” Luke said, holding out Patrick and placing him in Dean’s arms once the New Zealander was ready. “I’ll be back in a few hours, yeah? I’m hanging around the neighborhood to do some errands, so call if you need me before then. Bye-bye!” he added, waving at Patrick before heading out, locking the front door behind him.

Dean held Patrick close as he steered toward the couch. “Buddy, it looks like Daddy couldn’t stay awake like he said he could,” he told the sleeping baby with a bit of a laugh. “Yeah, he thought he was all tough, but he needs sleep just like the rest of us.” He was glad to realize that they had left the car seat on the coffee table, and he put Patrick in it and rocked it gently to keep him asleep.

He leaned his head back onto his headrest and decided to focus on the movie that Aidan had put on and promptly fallen asleep. It was an action movie, one that they both had seen a few times, and Dean was content to only sort of pay attention as he mentally ran through things they would need to do for Aidan’s parents to visit. They had left the futon in the nursery, which would work out well once they brought the crib into their room. Honestly, they needed to figure out food, but he knew that their friends would bring them meals, and the Turners would be willing to go shop for groceries.

He realized that the reason he wasn’t inundated with calls offering to bring meals and anything else they needed was because he hadn’t actually told his friends yet. He left Patrick and Aidan, knowing that the latter would wake up if the former started crying, and went to the bedroom to grab his laptop, which he brought out to the living room. After opening it up and finding his email, he brought up his dictation software and started composing a message to their closest friends, trusting that they would pass it on to all of their other friends.

_Hi everyone!_

_I’ve got some really great news. Yesterday, Patrick Turner O’Gorman was born. He slept in his very own crib last night, and right now he’s asleep in the living room while Aidan sleeps on the couch. We got basically no sleep last night, but we don’t really care, because he’s a sweet little boy and we love him more than anything in the world. Aidan’s parents are going to visit this weekend, but send us a text if you want to come meet him sometime. After a while, Aidan’s going to go back to work and I’ll work from home, but we’re both home for now. Anyway, just spreading the happy news!_

_Love,_

_Dean_

He sent the email off and put his laptop on the table, keeping it open so that he would see when new emails came in, and went back to the movie. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t make it that far into the plot before a little cry pulled his attention. “You can go back to sleep, babe,” he said as he saw Aidan open his eyes and flail around as he tried to sit up. “I’ve got ‘im,” he added in explanation as he picked their son up and started moving to the nursery to change him. “We’ll get you all cleaned up, sweetie, I promise,” he told Patrick soothingly. “You’ll be all clean and in a new nappy, and then you can go back to sleep. I know you want to sleep more. Your other daddy’s already sleeping, so you two can maybe nap together. Wouldn’t that be fun?” He kept up an inane babble as he changed the dirty nappy, and then went back to the living room with a much happier baby.

“You’re a cute dad,” Aidan commented from the couch, smiling. “I thought you might want to get on the couch with me and snuggle a bit. I’m up!” he added brightly as he saw Dean’s rather unimpressed face. “How long did I sleep?”

“Probably an hour,” Dean said, not positive. “Let me get this little bug back to sleep and then you can help me transfer.” He started humming a little as he rocked his upper body minutely, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to control larger movements. He stopped humming, though, when he saw Aidan wince. “Okay, buddy, I can’t carry a tune, and Daddy doesn’t like my humming, so let’s fall asleep without it.”

Aidan laughed softly. “Thank God,” he teased, smiling as he watched his husband and son.

“Oh, I emailed a bunch of our friends about Patrick earlier,” Dean said after a few moments of silence. “I’ll check if any of them have responded in a bit. I’m thinking we’re going to end up with a ton of people bringing us meals for a while.” He looked down to see Patrick sleeping, and he carefully placed him in the car seat for a real nap. “Okay, let’s get me on the couch.” He waited as Aidan got back in his chair to help him, and they managed the difficult transfer with only a little trouble. “That wasn’t our smoothest,” Dean giggled as he managed to push himself into a better sitting position. “We’re lucky I didn’t end up on the floor.”

“Yeah, that was not a good angle,” Aidan agreed, grabbing Dean’s laptop and handing it to him before sliding onto the couch to cuddle with his husband. “See if anyone emailed you back, babe,” he suggested excitedly, watching as the older man opened his laptop.

Dean grinned. “That’s the plan,” he replied happily, pulling up his email. “We got something from Richard!” he crowed when he saw an unopened message. He let Aidan read over his shoulder, so glad to see their friend’s happy congratulations, as well as a promise to bring dinner and meet Patrick on Tuesday. “He’ll be a whole week old by then,” the New Zealander commented, leaning on Aidan.

“I’m glad Richard can come soon,” the brunet said thoughtfully. “Everyone else can get a picture, but when Rich comes he can touch Patrick’s face and hear him make noises and stuff.” He kissed Dean’s temple, still smiling. “I love you.”

“Mm, I love you too,” Dean whispered in response. “Are you hungry? I’m starved,” he added after a few moments. “We didn’t eat breakfast, did we?” He batted his eyelashes playfully at his husband. “Can you get me something?” he asked hopefully. He was not about to get up from the couch without a damn good reason. Aidan could prepare bottles so that he could feed Patrick, so he could probably wait a couple hours before he had to move.

As he shifted to transfer, Aidan realized he was hungry too. “I’ll get something,” he mumbled as he pulled himself into his chair and headed into the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what they had that would be satisfying and easy; eggs would take too much effort, and since Dean was on the couch and couldn’t reach Patrick, he didn’t want to do anything that could take too long. He hunted through the refrigerator, trying to find something that looked good, but he ended up just settling on toast. He threw some sandwich bread into their toaster and pulled out a jar of jam.

Dean smiled in thanks when Aidan put a plate of toast with jam on his lap. “You’re great,” he said softly, lifting up a piece of toast and eating it. He ate two full pieces before handing the rest of the plate to Aidan. “Your parents will be here Friday night to Sunday night, right? I think we have enough food to last us ‘til then.” It was Wednesday, and they hadn’t gone grocery shopping since the previous week, but he was pretty sure that they had enough non-perishable staples to last those next two days.

“We’ve got enough leftover pasta for dinner today and a bit of sliced meat for lunch,” Aidan informed his husband after swallowing his bite of toast thickly. “We might end up eating cereal for a meal or two, but we’ll be fine.” He smiled, tried to stifle a yawn, and failed. “Paddy, you’re a beautiful little guy, but I’d really like some sleep tonight,” he muttered to his son. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said to Dean, moving to his wheelchair. “I’m going to get some of his clothes and start adjusting the legs for him,” he explained before wheeling off into the nursery. He came back to the living room with a stack of tiny outfits, a pair of scissors, and a needle and thread.

“I thought we were going to clip them instead of sewing them,” Dean said, looking a little perplexed as Aidan started to hold the outfits up against Patrick as he slept.

Aidan shook his head. “I realized that he’s going to grow out of his clothes fast enough that we just need to give him a little bit of leeway in the legs and we can sew ‘em up. I don’t know how much they’ll grow along with the rest of him, but I guess we’ll see.” He took the scissors and cut the legs of one outfit halfway down before starting to carefully sew up the ends. He supposed it didn’t make that much of a difference for a newborn, since he wouldn’t be crawling or anything, but he wanted the clothes to actually fit his son. The idea of his son’s clothes not fitting because of his disability bothered him.

“I know _you_ never wanted prosthetics, but I want him to have a choice,” Dean said softly after a few moments. “You’ve got great health insurance from the bank, and they would cover them. Once he’s one, we could get him some just to try.” He shrugged. “I don’t think prosthetics are the best choice or anything, but he might like them. He’s our baby, and I want him to have the choice.”

After a moment, Aidan nodded. “I’ll talk to the insurance to see what they’ll cover. I don’t want him to be stuck with only the prosthetics, ‘cause he’d outgrow those faster than a pediatric wheelchair.”

“Would he?” Dean asked curiously. Having grown up able-bodied, he didn’t know much about pediatric chairs or prosthetics, except that they were more adjustable than those for adults.

Aidan nodded again, though he didn’t look up from the onesie he was sewing. “Yeah. A wheelchair can adjust for height more than a prosthetic. Kids’ chairs have more adjustable footplates, and you can pad the side guards and then take off the padding when he needs a wider seat. I don’t think you can do as much with a prosthetic.” He shrugged a little. “I’ll ask some of my friends who use ‘em, though, just to be sure.” He turned to Dean and smiled as he held up the onesie, on of the legs shortened up with rough stitches. “Does that look right?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he answered after a moment. “I think his right leg developed a little more, though, so make the other one a few centimeters longer.” He relaxed back into the couch tiredly, and smiled as he watched Aidan start sewing up Patrick’s other pant leg. He winced a bit when his son woke up with a cry. “Hey, give him to me and get a bottle,” he told Aidan, taking the sobbing infant and rocking him slowly. “Daddy’s getting you a bottle, sweetie, just wait a couple minutes and everything’s going to be all better,” he promised, taking the warm bottle from Aidan when he came back and popping it into Patrick’s mouth. “There we go,” he whispered as his son began to eat in earnest. “Thanks,” he added to Aidan as the younger man took up his needle and thread again to keep working. He smiled and leaned back, yawning. “You’re going to keep us up all night again, aren’t you?” he asked, but he didn’t really care that much. Patrick was worth it.


	30. Grandparents Visit

By the time Aidan’s parents came, Dean felt pretty close to the end of his rope. He loved his son—there would never be any doubt of that. However, as much as he loved that tiny little infant that slept near the foot of his bed, he really fucking _needed_ some sleep. He had actually fallen asleep in the shower that morning and had only woken up when Luke had shaken his shoulder a few times. When his husband opened the door to welcome his parents into the apartment, Dean felt close to crying in relief.

“How are you two feeling?” Mrs. Turner asked cheerfully, hugging her son and son-in-law in turn, noticing the circles under the eyes. “Tired?” she added, smiling knowingly. She knew the utter exhaustion of a newborn, though she couldn't imagine how it was for Dean, who had to put some much energy into just picking up his son and changing him.

Aidan laughed wearily. “You have no idea,” he groaned, letting his parents into the flat before closing the door behind them. “Okay, you obviously have some idea, since I’m your son, but wow. I thought I was used to being tired with rugby. This is a whole new level.” He managed a smile, however tired, and looked over at his father. “Want to see Paddy? He’s sleeping right now, but he’ll be up in a few minutes, probably. He wakes up almost every hour.”

“He’s cute as hell, though,” Dean added with a grin, leading his mother- and father-in-law into his and Aidan’s bedroom, where Patrick lay, sleeping, in the basinet on the dresser. “He’s probably the cutest little guy in the world,” he announced as his in-laws approached the basinet.

As soon as he saw his grandson, Mr. Turner smiled widely. “He is adorable,” he said softly, unable to believe that he had a grandchild. “Where is his family from?” he asked. It wasn’t that he had any problem with Patrick’s ethnicity, but he had assumed, until the first picture Aidan had sent, that the boy would be white.

“Ireland and New Zealand,” Aidan answered, though he knew what his father meant. He caught his mother’s look, though, and added, “Biologically, he’s Korean.” He smiled and looked down at Patrick’s sleeping face, noticing a small movement around the eyes. “Aww, hey, buddy. Are you waking up to meet Maimeó and Daideó?” he cooed, gently stroking his son’s chubby cheek. “Yeah, let’s get up and say hi to Daddy’s parents, okay?” He carefully lifted his son out so he wouldn’t jostle him and upset him. “Here, Da,” he said softly, waiting until his father extended his arms.

With a grin, Aidan’s father took his grandson into his arms and began to rock him slowly. “Hey, little guy,” he whispered, kissing the fluffy black hair on top of the infant’s head. “He’s absolutely darling.”

“He really is,” Mrs. Turner said softly, brushing soft hair out of Patrick’s face. “Is he a big crier?” she asked, glancing over at her son and his husband. “Aidan was a pretty big crier.”

Dean shook his head. “He starts out pretty quiet, and we mostly get to him before he can start getting too upset. We’ve got him in a basinet right by our bed, so even at night he barely has to wait before we can rock him and get him whatever he needs.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t mean we manage to get any sleep, but he doesn’t cry too much.” He smiled as he watched his father-in-law rock gently back and forth to keep Patrick calm. “He’s going to be hungry in a minute. I’ll go get a bottle,” he said, leaving the bedroom and heading to the kitchen to warm up some formula for his son. When he came back, a warm bottle in his lap, his in-laws were sitting on the bed, shushing Patrick gently as he started to cry.

“Look, bug, Daddy’s got a bottle for you,” Aidan cooed excitedly to Patrick. “How about Maimeó feeds you right now? I bet she’s really good at it.” He watched with a soft smile as Patrick settled down and began to eat. “Yeah, there’s my happy little guy. Everything’s better with some food.”

Once Patrick was quietly drinking his bottle, Mrs. Turner looked up at her son. “We’ll make you all meals while we’re here, and I’ll make sure there’s extra so we can leave some for you two for the next week. I know it’s hard to cook when you’ve got a newborn, and I don’t want you two eating raw carrots for all your meals.”

“Thanks,” Dean said gratefully. “We’ll probably be okay, since Luke will be here most evenings and he won’t be exhausted like us, and we have friends planning to visit who are already asking what food we want, but having more is always a good plan, just in case.” He smiled as Patrick stopped drinking his formula and released the bottle from his mouth. “All done, buddy?”

Patrick’s eyes drooped as he was lifted up and burped, and it took a scant few minutes for him to fall back asleep. “You can keep holding him if you want, but he can go back in the basinet,” Aidan said, though he knew even before his mother responded that she was going to keep holding her grandson. “Would you all like something to drink? Or… we should think about getting groceries. We should eat something in the next couple hours.”

“We can go to the store for you, if you’d like,” Aidan’s father suggested. “If you’d like a break from Paddy, though, you can head out and we’ll keep an eye on him.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m happy to stay home with him,” he said with a small smile. “I need to do some work, so I was thinking I’d bring him into the living room with me and play some quiet music while I work from my laptop.”

“I’ll go with you guys,” Aidan said cheerfully. “Dean probably won’t get much work done if we’re here crowding around.”

Mrs. Turner looked over at her son-in-law, clearly trying to think of something tactful to say.

“I’m fine on my own with him,” Dean assured her. “I can change his diaper, carry him around, and feed him. We’re buddies, aren’t we?” he asked his sleeping son softly, watching his tiny chest rise and fall as he lay in his grandmother’s arms. “Seriously, I’m fine,” he added when he noticed that his in-laws were still looking at him worriedly.

With a sigh, Aidan gave his mother a look. “Ma, Dean is an adult and a father. He can stay alone with his own son,” he pointed out. “As his other father, I get the final say—or, like, half the final say, I guess—in who can stay alone with him. Dean tops the list of those people.”

“Sorry, Dean, I just don’t know much about your function,” Mrs. Turner said quietly, holding Patrick out toward his elder father.

Dean took his son into his arms and curled him up close to his chest with a tight smile. “I know, but you should probably trust me about my function.” He grimaced a little. “I don’t want to be a jerk about it, but Aidan isn’t the ultimate authority on my function, since he isn’t, you know, me.” He shrugged his right shoulder uncomfortably.

With an embarrassed, awkward laugh, Mrs. Turner nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “I always used to get so mad at people who assumed that Aidan couldn’t do things, and it turns out that I’m like that about other disabilities.” She stood up and kissed Dean’s cheeks and Patrick’s head. “We’ll head out for groceries and let you get your work done.”

Smiling, Dean took Patrick out to the living room, settling him in his car seat to sleep as he booted up his laptop and opened the file of the brochure he was in charge of proofreading, checking that all the details about the track and field clinic that they would be hosting in a few weeks. Before he started working, he clicked around and started to play a bit of rock at a low volume.

Outside the apartment, Aidan led his parents over to their van. “Do you have any ideas of what will be easy for us to make while half-asleep and listening for Patrick to start crying? We’ve been making sandwiches a lot for the past couple of days.”

“We’ll get the stuff for a lasagna and I’ll get it all prepared for you to throw in the oven whenever you want,” his mother promised. “I know I made some ableist assumptions about Dean, sweetie, but do you think I apologized enough?” she asked worriedly.

“He’s fine, Ma. He hears that kind of stuff all the time, and he’s an adult. I mean, he’s not happy, but I’m sure he’s over it. We’ll pick something up to make a good dessert and all will be forgiven,” Aidan assured her as he transferred into the driver’s seat and took the wheels off his chair, swinging it into the back before his parents got in. The van had a lot of room, since usually Dean’s power chair took up the back, and his parents fit in with more than enough room to spare for the groceries they would get.

After just over an hour of work, interrupted only once by a sad snuffling from the car seat, Dean heard the apartment door open, and he looked up. “How was Tesco?” he asked, taking his laptop off his lap and putting it on the table next to Patrick. “Did you buy the whole supermarket section?” he added when he saw all the bags the others were bringing in.

“We got a little carried away,” Mrs. Turner admitted, putting down the bags in her hands and starting to unload their purchases into the cabinets and refrigerator. “You’ll be set for a while. I’m going to make the lasagna to put in your freezer right now, and then I’m going to make us a nice chicken soup. The rain’s starting to get chilly now that it’s autumn, and that soup will warm you right up.” She continued to put the groceries away, shooing her husband and son out of the kitchen.

Aidan rolled over to the coffee table, smiling down at Patrick as the infant slept quietly. “Did you get any work done, or did this little guy get fussy?” he asked Dean, noticing that the older man’s laptop was closed on the table.

“Yeah, I was just looking at my email when you guys came in,” Dean answered, yawning. “He just woke up once to get his nappy changed.” He smiled tiredly and tilted his chin up, giving Aidan a hopeful look and grinning when he received a kiss in return. “Love you,” he whispered against Aidan’s face, and then pulled back when he remembered that the younger man’s father was just a few feet away. He blushed a little, feeling silly, and cleared his throat. He felt a little relieved when Patrick let out the start of a cry, and he rolled forward a bit to pick him up. “Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?” he cooed sweetly, bending his neck to try to smell if his son needed his diaper changed. “Are you hungry, little guy?”

“Give me a minute, bug, and I’ll get you a nice bottle,” Aidan said, heading into the kitchen and popping a bottle in the microwave. “Thanks for cooking for us, Ma,” he added, smiling up at his mother as she moved around the cramped space to start making lasagna.

“It’s no problem, sweetie. I know that cooking is just too much to deal with when you’ve got a newborn,” she replied cheerfully. “Now, when you take this out of the freezer next week, you’ll just pop it in the oven for an hour or so,” she added in explanation, turning back to her prep work as her son took the warm bottle out of the microwave and headed back over toward Dean and Patrick.

After a few tries with the bottle, Dean put it down. “Not hungry?” he asked his now-sobbing son. “Okay, are you just… sad? I know, buddy, things are hard because you’re tiny and the whole world is confusing, but I’m right here, and you’ve got another daddy over there.” He rocked gently from side to side to calm the infant down as well as he could. “But, you know, feel free to cry a little quieter, because this daddy has a headache from working on his computer,” he added with a bit of a grimace.

“That’s what happens when you edit things on the computer for an hour after a few days without much sleep,” Aidan pointed out, rolling toward the kitchen. “Let me get you some ibuprofen and water.” He pulled a pill bottle out of a drawer and put it in his lap, and then got a glass of water and took it to Dean, along with a few pills he shook out onto his hand. “Do you need something to eat with it?” he asked, sticking a straw in the water. When the older man shook his head, Aidan tipped the handful of pills into his mouth and then held the straw up to his mouth.

Dean sighed in relief as Patrick started to quiet down in his arms, going from loud sobs to occasional little sniffles. “See, buddy? Nothing was really wrong, was it? The world’s a scary place when you’re only a couple days old and don’t understand anything, but things are all okay,” he said in a soothing voice. “Want to go sit with Daideó?” he asked, kissing Patrick’s little forehead before letting his father-in-law take his son from his arms.


	31. Richard Visits

It felt like Aidan’s parents had barely arrived by the time they departed, leaving in their wake a freezer full of prepared meals to heat up, a marginally cleaner house, and more baby clothes than Patrick could ever possibly need before growing out of them. The new fathers weren’t sure they had actually gotten more sleep than they would have without the Turner parents there, but it had been nice for them to meet Patrick.

Aidan sat on the floor, carefully stitching up the legs of another one of Patrick’s onesies, while Dean sat on the couch and edited another project for work. A baby monitor sat on the coffee table between them, and Patrick slept soundly in the bassinet in their bedroom. “I thought you were supposed to be the one working all day at home,” the older man groaned after a little while, looking enviously at Aidan. “You’re a banker, aren’t you supposed to have long hours and shit?”

“I was smart enough to switch from working from home to taking two months of paternity leave,” Aidan pointed out, silently thanking whoever came up with the idea of paternity leave instead of just maternity leave. “You’re the one who decided to work from home.”

“I can’t believe you let me do that,” Dean grumbled, but he was smiling. “If we have another kid, please remind me of this level of exhaustion if I want to work from home again.” He sighed tiredly and turned his attention back to his work, wanting to get the plans for the next few months of London-based GB Paralympic events set in stone. “I can’t believe they let a New Zealander coordinate all their events. What if I sabotaged them?”

Aidan snorted. “Yeah, you’re immoral like that,” he teased, scooting over on the floor to sit closer to his husband. He finished up one leg on the new Batman onesie that his parents had gotten for Patrick and began on the other one. “When did you say Richard’s coming over?” he asked after a few minutes of relaxed silence as they both worked.

“A little after lunch,” Dean answered, glancing at the clock at the top of his computer screen. “Maybe an hour,” he added. “He’s taking half a day off of work to see our kid. We’ve got one lucky kid, with how many people love him. I think that Adam’s coming on the weekend, and then my parents are coming in, like, three weeks. Our little guy will be a whole month old by then!” He grinned a little. “My parents said we have to take at least one picture per day until he gets here.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows, looking up from his careful sewing. “Are they going to enforce that even after they see him?” he asked. “I mean, I’m all for taking pictures of the little bug, but that seems a little excessive. You won’t be the obnoxious guy who posts a million pictures of his baby in the same outfit on Facebook, right? Those guys drive me nuts.”

Dean shook his head. “The daily photos can go to my parents. Only the cutest pictures will go on Facebook. When my parents are here, we should ask them to take a good family picture,” he added thoughtfully. “I think he’s already the cutest little fuck since baby rabbits were invented, but I’ve heard they’re a little cuter after a couple weeks.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Aidan agreed, hissing as he poked himself in the end of his right arm with his needle. “I feel bad, but I don’t think I’m going to get all of these done before he grows out of them,” he admitted. Their friends and family members had given them so many cute little outfits, but it took time to adjust the legs of each one. Aidan already felt bad that the adjusted onesies couldn’t be given to charity or secondhand shops, but they were better for Patrick to have them like this. While it wouldn’t make as much of a difference before he starting rolling around, something about his son’s clothes not fitting him due to his disability rubbed Aidan the wrong way. “I feel bad, but I think some are going to end up at one of the shelters in the city before he even wears them.”

Dean shrugged. “I think people understand that,” he said. “I can’t sew, and you need to get some of the bigger ones done too, since you’re not going to have all this time once you go back to work.” He looked back at his laptop, bringing his attention back to the spreadsheet with the color-coded Team GB London events, and he shrunk it to take up half the screen so that he could pull up their family calendar as well and compare them to figure out which events he could attend as needed, and which he would have to skip. While Luke was going to help with Patrick at practices and work once Aidan went back to work, he didn’t want to do that more than necessary; not only would that mean more time for Patrick in unfamiliar environments without one of his fathers, but also paying Luke overtime so frequently was not exactly great for their bank accounts.

“Jesus, Dean,” Aidan muttered, looking up at the screen of his husband’s laptop, where there were at least three colors on each calendar. “I don’t think you’ve overscheduled yourself enough.”

Looking down to where Aidan sat on the floor, Dean rolled his eyes. “The only things that I have to do on our family calendar are the ones in red, and I get to pick and choose what I go to on the work one.” He groaned. “Right now, I can’t imagine having enough energy to run one of these events, but I need to do at least a couple in the coming months. I’ll try to do one that only last a day, though.” He looked through all the different events; there was one track and field event, but that already had a coordinator selected to work it. “I guess I’ll do an ice sledge hockey thing in December, and… fuck if I know what to do in January. I’ve got a baby; I can’t take the time to go to one of the weekend-long skiing events. I’ll talk to my boss and see what I can do,” he said, saving the changes to the spreadsheet calendars before closing them and his laptop.

On the floor, Aidan finished up the leg he was working on and put the finished onesie with the other two he had already done. “Okay, break,” he said, stretching and flexing his hands. “Want me to make you some lunch? If I make lunch, you’re in charge of getting Patrick when he wakes up,” he added.

“Sounds great, babe,” Dean answered, putting his laptop on the table and rubbing his itchy forehead with the back of his right hand as Aidan climbed back into his wheelchair and headed into the kitchen. Of course, just as the younger man started making up sandwiches for the two of them, a snuffle, and then a cry, came over the baby monitor. Dean flicked the switch on his armrest to turn his chair back on and headed into the bedroom, where Patrick was crying loudly and flexing his tiny hands. “Hey, little man,” he cooed, picking his son up and curling him close. “Let’s get you changed and then we can get you some yummy lunch.” He kissed Patrick’s head, carefully situating him in his left arm, and steered into the nursery, where he set the sobbing infant on the changing table and, as efficiently as he could, put him in a clean diaper. “There we go! Let’s see what kind of lunch Daddy made for us!”

While Dean had been in the bedroom, Aidan had quickly warmed up a bottle of formula, which he handed to his husband when he appeared with Patrick a couple minutes later. “There, bug, all better,” he said, smiling as he watched his son calm down and start eating. “He slept for, like, two and a half whole hours,” he added to Dean after checking his watch. “That’s pretty good.”

“Feel free to do that at night too, bud,” Dean said, looking down at Patrick. “You’ve got two daddies who would be really excited if you only woke them up three or four times tonight” He let his head fall back onto his headrest, exhausted. “You know who’s coming today, Paddy? Richard! Richard gave you that soft blanket that you sleep with. He gave it to you before you were even born, ‘cause he knew he was going to adore you. Maybe you can go to sleep for a little bit once you finish eating, so you can be awake for him and maybe grab his finger. That would be fun, wouldn’t it? I bet he’d really like that.”

Patrick seemed to agree, because he managed to fall asleep pretty quickly after eating and burping a little of the formula back up. “I’m going to put him in his car seat on the coffee table, okay?” Dean said, getting Patrick settled in the living room and heading back to the kitchen to eat the sandwich that his husband handed him. “Food,” he groaned happily, taking a huge bite. “Thanks, babe,” he managed to tell Aidan through his mouthful. “Do you promise you’ll be fine if I go to the track tomorrow?” He had asked the younger man that probably a million times already, but he still worried.

Aidan rolled his eyes. “For the millionth time, yes. Are you going to ask me that every time you leave us alone? Seeing as you’re going back to training and coaching most evenings next week, you’re going to waste a lot of time asking.” They had figured out their schedule so that Dean could coach Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, fitting his own training in before practices started; Aidan, meanwhile, was going to team practices on Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, and going to the gym at least another couple times during the week. “This kid is going to spend lots of time at the track once he’s a little older, isn’t he?” he added with a grin.

“I know!” Dean said excitedly. “He’s going to be in a racing chair as soon as he can fit in the smallest one we have for the program.” Most of the kids’ chairs were owned by the program, and kids could use them at the track for practices and rent them to take to competitions; racing chairs were too expensive for most people to buy for a kid who was just going to grow out of it.

Smiling, Aidan just shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he said fondly, leaning forward and bracing his hands on Dean’s armrests in order to kiss the older man’s jaw. “I’m so glad Rich is coming. Is someone driving him here? Whoever drives him can come in and hang out if they want.”

“He told me he’s taking the bus,” Dean answered. “And he promised he’s going to bring a home cooked meal.” He was really excited about that part, because Richard was an amazing cook. “We’ll eat that tonight, yeah? Your ma’s frozen stuff will be for the rest of the week.”

Aidan finished off his sandwich, washing it down with a gulp of water, and smiled. “Yeah. Hopefully people will visit next week and bring us some food. I don’t want to have to live on bringing home takeout after our practices. That’s not nearly as healthy as anything homemade.” He started to leave the kitchen, but Dean’s wide power chair was taking up the only way out, so he stopped.

“Want me to move?”

“I’m okay. Go ahead and finish your sandwich. I don’t have anything I need to do,” Aidan answered. He had really only been moving so that he could go to the couch, and his was in no rush. “Do we have any snack food or… whatever to offer Rich when he gets here?”

Dean barely stifled a laugh. “Yeah, no. Unless you and your parents got some on Friday and put them somewhere weird, we don’t. We can offer him something to drink, though.” He hadn’t quite finished his sandwich when their doorbell rang, but he set his sandwich down and went to the door. “Hey, Richard!” he said excitedly, gently pulling his friend down into a hug.

Richard hugged Dean back before standing up straight. “I brought you guys a salad and made a Caesar dressing, which is in a separate jar so it doesn’t make the lettuce mushy, and there’s some breaded chicken in there that you can heat up in the oven and put a lemon sauce on,” he explained, handing his friend a canvas bag with a two Tupperware containers and two jars in it.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Dean said gratefully, moving a little down the hall so that Richard could close the door behind himself and lean his cane up against the wall. “We’ve been dying for something healthy. Come on in! Patrick’s asleep, but if you stay for a while, he’ll probably wake up.” He rolled down the little hall toward the kitchen, knowing that Richard would follow the sound of his power chair moving across the carpet.

“Hi Richard!” Aidan called out, wheeling out to hug the Englishman enthusiastically. “I heard what you brought, and it sounds amazing. Do you want anything to drink?” he asked, taking the bag from Dean so he could put the various components into the refrigerator. “We’ve got water, orange juice, milk, and beer. And baby formula,” he added, smiling, “but you probably don’t want that.”

“Water would be great,” Richard answered, taking the cup that Aidan handed him a moment later with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Want to meet Patrick?” Dean asked, grinning widely at Richard’s obvious excitement. “Come on, he’s in the living room. He mostly sleeps in the bassinet in our room, but we brought him out to the living room while we ate lunch. Oh, and he sleeps with that blanket you gave him every night,” he added cheerfully, leading the tall man into the living room. “Here, do you want to hold him?”

Richard felt around where he remembered the couch being from the last time he had visited, and sat down once he made sure he was in the right place. “I’d love to,” he answered, holding his hands out. When he felt a warm weight on them, he grinned and held the baby close. “He’s got hair!” he said excitedly, feeling fluffy, silky strands against his arm.

“Yeah,” Dean said, smiling. “I thought babies were born bald, ‘cause I was, but he’s got a full head of hair. His skin is super soft, too. Do you know where his cheek is? If not, I can put your hand there.”

“I can do it,” Richard answered, shifting Patrick so that he was in one arm and using the other to stroke one side of the infant’s soft face. “How have you two been holding up?” he asked, hearing Aidan’s wheelchair approaching.

Aidan laughed a little. “Surviving. We’re tired as hell, but doing okay. He’s pretty good, and hopefully it’s only a few weeks of waking up every hour.”

“Are you planning to go back to practice?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I'm going to the track tomorrow, and next week we start a routine that we figured out so that Aidan can go to practice three times a week.” He shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair, and looked at Aidan hopefully. “My right side obliques are hurting. Can you help me move, babe?”

Aidan nodded and went closer to Dean, wrapping an arm around him, pulling him up, and helping him resettle in a better position. “Do you want to stay for dinner, Rich? Your food is going to be amazing; it’s only right we share it,” he said, looking over at his friend, who was smiling blissfully and rocking gently to keep Patrick calm and asleep.

“That’d be great!” Richard said, grinning widely. “Would you give me a ride home, though? Depending on when you eat dinner, the bus may change schedule, since it will be after rush hour.”

“Can do!” Aidan promised. “Luke comes after dinner to help Dean shower and stuff, and they can keep Patrick in the bathroom with them so they can help if he starts crying. I can easily drop you at home while Luke’s here.”

The adults chatted for a while, mostly about their various sports and Richard’s dating life, which was apparently tragically dormant. When the eldest man’s arms got a little tired, he put Patrick back in his car seat to continue his nap. After an hour and a half, though, he began to make a little snuffling sound. Dean looked into the car seat at his son. “He’s waking up, and probably needs to eat. Want to feed him, Rich?” he asked. “I’ll make him a bottle. Can you comfort him while I do that?” he added when his friend nodded, and he went into the kitchen to warm up the formula.

Richard picked the tiny boy out of his car seat and rocked him, shushing him quietly. He listened as Dean clanked around a little in the kitchen, and then hit some buttons and started the microwave. The sounds were all familiar to him, and he tuned them out as well as he could to focus on Patrick’s quiet, distressed noises. “Just another minute and we’ll have some food, sweetie,” he whispered, stroking soft black hair as comfortingly as he could. When Dean tapped him on the shoulder, he reached up and took the bottle and felt Patrick’s face to get the bottle into his mouth. “There you go,” he said, smiling, when the infant stopped crying and Richard could hear quiet sucking sounds.

“You’re good with babies,” Aidan commented, finding the sight of his friend holding his baby absolutely sweet and adorable. He yawned; he thought it was pretty much silent, but he saw Richard’s lips twitch upward. “What? I’ve got a week-old baby. Of course I’m tired.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Richard said innocently. He pulled the bottle from Patrick’s mouth when he stopped sucking on it and handed him to Aidan to burp him. “Can I actually take you up on that beer?” he asked hopefully. “We can be social, like guys in their twenties and thirties are supposed to be.”

Dean immediately backed up and went to the refrigerator. “Of course,” he said as he went. “I’m going to give you the bottle and the opener. Openers aren’t exactly my strong suit,” he added wryly as he pulled the cold bottle from the fridge. He managed to get the bottle opener off the front of the appliance, where a magnet held it on. He set both in his lap and went back to the living room. “Aid, can you hand these to Richard?” he asked, seeing that his husband had finished burping Patrick and was now rocking him.

“Yep,” Aidan answered, taking the cold beer and the bottle opener from Dean’s lap and handing them to Richard, who opened the bottle and took a sip.

“I should’ve brought some wine for you guys. God knows you two could use a glass at the end of the day,” Richard said. “You should grab some on your way home from practice tomorrow,” he added to Dean. “Is anyone else visiting soon?”

Aidan nodded, purely out of habit, before answering. “Yeah. Adam’s coming this weekend, and James is talking about coming next weekend. Dean’s parents are going to be here in three weeks or so.”

“I’ll try to coordinate with the Adam and Graham to get you guys meals more often than that,” Richard said. “Even with you both home and everything, it’s hard enough to make dinner when you’ve got a tiny baby, but with training… I don’t want you two to starve.”

“I don’t think we’d quite starve, but ordering delivery pizza and Chinese and whatever else isn’t healthy enough for elite athletes,” Aidan said. “Thanks. My ma left a few frozen meals, but those will run out in a week.”

Richard smiled. “No problem. What the hell else are friends for?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned in this chapter, racing wheelchairs are super expensive--$3000 bucks. This might be a weird place to post this, but I'm trying to get money to buy one. I have three doctors who want me to get a baclofen pump, and surgery is expensive as hell too. If you can donate, even a few bucks, I'd love you forever. And, like, write you a porn scene or a one shot or whatever you want. If you want to donate, or even just learn a little about my disorder, click [here](http://www.gofundme.com/fy475k)


	32. Dinner and Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn am I bad at chapter titles. Oh well :)
> 
> Thanks to people who donated to my racing chair fund. I'm super grateful!
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated. Also, get pumped because we will eventually hit the Tokyo games, and I know people wanted to see more sports. Yay sports!

Luke came to the house right as Dean, Richard, and Aidan were finishing a late dinner; the Englishman was holding Patrick in one arm to rock him, using his other hand to get food to his mouth.

“Hi, Luke,” Dean said cheerfully, and the other men echoed his sentiment.

Richard paused for a moment, feeling a weird texture under his fork. “Hey, Aidan?” he said. “I think I’m hitting the chicken at three o’clock, but that’s where my salad should be. Chicken’s supposed to be at six, with bread around ten.”

Aidan looked over to his friend’s plate. “Chicken somehow shifted up and pushed the salad up. It’s around twelve, going toward ten and pushing the bread to nine,” he explained. “That what happens when you rock a baby and try to eat at the same time,” he added with a bit of a laugh. “On Thursday, Dean balanced him in his left arm and ate dinner, but kept trying to eat after he ran out of food.”

“In my defense, I was sleep deprived,” Dean said, looking over at his PCA as he pulled up a chair to sit with them. “Want anything to eat, Luke? We’ve eaten all the chicken, but there’s salad and bread left.”

“I could eat some bread,” Luke said cheerfully, picking a piece out of the bowl it was in. “Richard, isn’t he the cutest baby ever?” he asked, noticing that the goalball player was holding the sleeping infant.

After he finished swallowing his bite, Aidan cleared his throat. “Luke, are you okay with bringing Paddy into the bathroom while Dean’s showering? I’m going to drive Rich home, and the little bug can get hungry half an hour after feeding. Or three hours after. He’s fickle like that.”

“No problem,” Luke answered. “Okay, I’m going to take you up on that salad offer,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to get a plate and fork. Anybody need anything from the kitchen?” When the three other men shook their heads, he went into the kitchen and got only what he needed. “You know, before I started working with Dean, I thought I was in good shape,” he said conversationally. “Then you come along with your gold medals and your Paralympic husband and all your Paralympic friends and, man, I’m not in good shape at all.”

The men around the table laughed. “If you compare yourself to us, of course you seem out of shape,” Richard said. “On the other hand, compare yourself to people who aren’t world-class, internationally competitive athletes, you’re great. You’re strong enough to lift Dean a few times every day.”

“I weigh you down with all my muscle,” Dean said happily. “Side effect of having badass arms.” He glanced at his watch. “Rich? It’s eight. I don’t know when you’re planning to get home, but I need to do my night routine pretty soon so Luke can leave at a reasonable hour, and I need him here while Aidan drives you home,” he explained.

Richard nodded. “I should get back home anyway. I want to get a little further in my book tonight, and I’ve got to get up early tomorrow for a morning practice. Man, the reason I didn’t do crew was to avoid the early mornings, but no,” he grumbled, standing up from the table and handing Patrick over to Aidan, before taking his plate into the kitchen and rinsing it in the sink. He wasn’t familiar with the kitchen in the apartment, so it took a little feeling around to get the dish in the sink and properly rinsed.

Aidan kissed Patrick’s head before handing him off to Dean. “I’ll grab my keys, Rich, and we should be good to go,” he said, wheeling toward the front door, where his keys sat on top of a set of cubbies that held all of Dean’s shoes. “Ready when you are,” he said, turning around to face the apartment rather than the door.”

Richard gave Dean a quick hug. “I’ll email some people to get meals set up. You know Jonnie Peacock and Hannah Cockroft, right?”

“A little,” Dean answered. “I spent a little time with them in Rio, but Jonnie spent more time with the other T43s and 44s. I’ve seen him a couple times at some of the events I worked for my job, and Hannah and I met up at the track for some friendly training and competition,” he explained. “I feel a little bad asking them to bring us food, though.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ll be the one asking,” Richard said, and gave Dean another hug before heading toward the door. “Okay, let’s go,” he said, grabbing his cane from where he had propped it by the door and following Aidan out of the apartment.

Dean smiled down at his baby; Luke was still eating his salad, so he just wanted to waste some time until the other man was ready to help him shower. “Hey, buddy, are you excited to be in the nice warm room while Daddy showers? We’re going to be all cozy while the shower gets all steamy.”

Looking up from his salad, Luke said, “I can help you give him a little bath if you want.”

“Nah,” Dean answered. “Aidan likes tickling him and playing with the bubbles. I can’t take that away from him.” He smiled at Patrick. “Daddy likes giving you a bath, doesn’t he? And I bet you like all those little bubbles!” he cooed. He changed his focus to Luke. “Don’t tell me about child development or anything. I know they don’t do or probably even think much at one week, but, you know, it’s nice to think of.”

Luke shook his head. “Wasn’t going to say anything,” he said, finishing off his salad and cleaning off the plate. “Want me to stick these in the dishwasher?”

“Aidan’ll do it when he gets home,” Dean said; he didn’t like having Luke do things for him that he either could do, didn’t need help with, or weren’t really his responsibility; the younger man tended to be in charge of the dishes, while Dean dealt with tasks that used fewer fine motor skills. Luke was his personal care assistant, not a maid or a house cleaner, and it was not his job to clean up the dishes. “Shower?” he asked. “Can you get his car seat? I prefer to carry him in that to move around,” he added when the other man nodded. “Thanks,” he said, putting Patrick in the car seat when Luke put it on his lap. “Okay, little guy, we’re going to get all nice and warm now.”

Dean, Luke noticed, was an incredibly adorable father. “Want to get undressed in bed or in the bathroom?” he asked.

“Bed,” Dean answered, pulling up next to it and putting Patrick’s car seat on top of the mess of blankets. “God, we haven’t made our bed since he’s been born,” he groaned. “Neatness is overrated, right?”

Luke nodded sagely. “The only things you really need to care about are laundry and taking out the trash,” he said, helping Dean shift onto the bed. The transfer was more difficult from his power chair than his manual, so the help Luke gave was more a full lift than anything else. “So,” he said in a salacious tone, working Dean’s stiff left arm through his sleeve, “have you had sex since Patrick was born?”

“Dude!”

“What? It’s not like when a woman gives birth and can’t do it for weeks.”

Dean would have blushed if it were anyone else, but as his PCA, Luke tended to know nearly every detail of his life—including sex. Life with a PCA always seemed embarrassing to people who didn’t have them, but the Welshman had seen it all when it came to Dean; he had seen the hickeys and bite marks on the right side of his chest, and, frankly, it was hard to be embarrassed around a dude who helped you wipe your ass. “No, we haven’t,” he answered. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a baby sleeps in our bedroom. I don’t care that he’s so young and sleeps all the time, and even if he woke up he wouldn’t know, but… no.”

After they had gotten Dean’s shirt off, Luke began to work on his pants and underwear. “He slept in the nursery the first night, right? Put him in there, keep the baby monitor, and bring him back to the bedroom for the night once you’re done,” he suggested.

“We’re tired all the time,” Dean said. “There is nothing that kills a boner quite like your husband falling asleep in the middle.”

Luke shrugged. “Wouldn’t kill your boner, since your dick only reacts to physical stimulation,” he said, smirking. “Just saying,” he added when Dean made a face. “Are you good to get back in the chair? I’ll carry Paddy in the car seat while you go into the bathroom. I wouldn’t carry that thing on top of your naked dick.”

“God no,” Dean said, looking a little pale at the thought. “I’ve still got some feeling down there, but I like to keep the sensation, you know, nice.” He shook his head to get the thoughts out of his mind, and smiled. “I’m good to get back in my chair for the shower,” he told the other man. He began to list a little to the left side, but Luke put his arms under his upper back and his knees and easily lifted him into his wheelchair.

Once he got the blond in his wheelchair, Luke lifted up the car seat and carried Patrick into the bathroom, setting the carrier down on the counter before turning to Dean. “Let me get the water started so it will warm up, and I’ll change into my swim trunks,” he said, reaching into the shower. One the water was on, he ducked out of the room; he changed into the trunks that he had brought in his backpack and reentered the bathroom. “Ready to go?”

“Is the water warm?” Dean asked; he didn’t feel like freezing every part of his body that had temperature sensation. Once Luke had stuck his hand in and declared the water nice and warm, complete with steam rising slowly out of it, he lifted up his left arm so that the brunet could loop it around his neck and use that in part of his lift. Luke put him down on the shower seat, keeping his arm close around him until he could reach out and hold the grab bar tightly for balance.

Dean sighed happily as the warm water washed over him. He felt stiff and awful; being in his power chair all the time meant that his arms weren’t getting the stretch they needed. He was grateful that he was going back to training the next day; at least that would give him some time to use his arms. If Luke were around full-time, Dean could use his manual chair and just get pushed when he was holding Patrick’s car seat in his lap, but Aidan couldn’t push him.

Luke left a hand on Dean’s right shoulder, just in case, and leaned to reach the soap, shampoo, and conditioner that sat on a tray at arm height. He let go of Dean briefly, needing to use both hands so he could pour shampoo into one of them. He put his hand back as soon as he can; while it wasn’t likely that Dean would fall, since his absurdly strong arm was holding him up with the grab bar, but in the improbably event that he did, it would be catastrophic. It was better to be safe than sorry. “Do you need some PT tonight? I can do it so that Aidan doesn’t have to,” Luke said as he began to rub the shampoo into Dean’s hair. “Some massage might do your arms some good after being in the power chair for a whole week.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, closing his eyes to avoid getting any shampoo in them. “That’d be really great. Taking the time for a massage is a hell of a lot better than getting spasms in the middle of the night. Depending on how long we take to shower and everything, Aid might be home soon enough that he can be ready for bed by the time I’m ready for a massage.”

“I was going to make some comment about you preferring Aidan to me, but I realized that makes perfect sense,” Luke said, making sure that all the shampoo was out of Dean’s hair before working some conditioner in. He left the conditioner as he began to soap the blond up, checking his body for any cuts or bruises. “Hey, there’s a bruise on your right shin,” he said, looking back to Dean’s face. “Do you know where it came from?”

The New Zealander shook his head. “Not really. Aidan usually notices if my legs or hips or whatever hits something when we transfer, and when I run into things, my chair hits them first, at least when I’m in the electric. Granted, it’s super possible that I was half asleep and did it somehow.”

Luke nodded, moving on from Dean’s right leg to the left. “I’ll check on it tomorrow.” He finished with the other man’s legs, arms, and front before moving onto his back. “I’m going to lift you to look for pressure sores,” he said, carefully moving to lift Dean just the a little bit to check his ass for any skin that looked like it was on the road to being a pressure sore. “Okay, you’re good,” he announced, putting Dean back down and making sure he was keeping himself upright before letting go. “We’ll wash the conditioner out and then we’re good to go.”

“Good,” Dean said, closing his eyes once more as Luke gently guided his head under the spray. “I’ll brush my teeth and go to the bathroom before we get my in pajamas, and then we can do PT and massage.” When Luke turned off the water, he left Dean holding himself up in the shower, allowing him to get out and dry off a bit. He then lined Dean’s chair with towels and then lifted him into it. “Hey, buddy, did you like all the steam?” the blond asked, smiling as he looked down at his still sleeping son. “Yeah, I thought it was pretty nice too.” He sat still as Luke wrapped the towels on his wheelchair around him. “Okay, little guy, you and I are going to hang out here while Luke gets his clothes on.”

Patrick continued to sleep soundly; apparently he didn’t mind the steam of the shower.

“Luke’s like part of the family,” Dean explained cheerfully. “If he doesn’t quit, he’s going to be around lots while you grow up. See, your other Daddy can live all by himself, and can even help me a lot of the time, but I need help all day. I’m still strong and I can still help you with a lot, but I can’t get out of my wheelchair. It’s okay to need help, buddy,” he added.

As he came in the room, Luke smiled but still snorted a bit at what the blond was saying. “A week old and you’re already giving the pep talk?” he asked as he started to help towel Dean off.

Dean shrugged his one shoulder. “It’s important for kids to understand that getting help is okay, even for adults.”

Luke looked at him closely. “Are you worried about how he’s going to see you when he’s older? He’s never going to know anything different. To him, an adult who has a PCA is just a normal dad.”

“Until he goes to school, and all the kids have straight, able-bodied parents.”

“Well, he’s still going to grow up looking at all those medals. You guys are disability positive, and he’s going to understand. Plus, you know, if someone gives him shit, he can just start bragging about how many medals his dads have. By the time he’s school-aged, you’ll probably have more from Tokyo, and maybe a couple more from the 2024 games if you don’t retire,” Luke pointed out. “Why are you freaking out about this all of a sudden?”

Now dry, Dean rolled out of the room as Luke followed with Patrick. “I don’t know. I think it’s been freaking me out for a while, but I couldn’t really say anything to Aidan. He would think that _I_ think there’s something wrong with me, which I don’t. I’m just worried my kid will.”

Luke snorted. “Yeah, he’s going to be selectively ableist. Amputations are fine, but he’s going to decide that any paralysis higher than, like, T-10 is bad. Dean, man, you’ve got to stop worrying. There’s no way he’s going to think you are weak or whatever the hell else.”

“Technically, his aren’t amputations,” Dean said, wanting to be accurate. “It’s a congenital limb deficiency. I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, or him, or Aidan, but I’ve been around too many shitty abled people to trust that other people won’t believe there’s something wrong with us. And if he hears that from everyone else…” He shook his head. “I’m going to stop whining about my kid possibly thinking that I’m weak or being embarrassed by me and do my PT. Can you get me in bed and dressed?”

Luke nodded. “You can talk to me if you freak out about it anymore, but I think Aidan would listen too,” he said as he lifted Dean into bed. “Want a shirt as well as pants?” he asked, pulling boxer briefs and a pair of flannel pajama pants from the dresser.

“Just pants,” Dean answered. “Can you put Paddy in the basinet instead of his car seat? It’s a better place for him to sleep. He’ll probably wake up soon, but the basinet is better for him, even if it’s only for a few minutes.”

The Welshman put the clothes in his hand down on the bed before carefully lifting Patrick out of his car seat and putting him into the basinet. He was just getting Dean’s underwear up his legs when he heard the door open and close. “Hey, Aid,” he called out, hearing the younger man put his keys by the door. “I’m going to do PT with Dean,” he added, starting on the pajama pants as he finished with the Kiwi’s boxer briefs.

“Hi,” Aidan said cheerfully as he came into the bedroom. “Do you want me to do PT?” he asked, half to Luke and half to Dean. “If you need to get home or anything, we’ll be fine doing it ourselves. As long as you’re comfortable,” he added to Dean.

Luke shook his head. “I don’t have anything to do tonight, and if I do PT you can get Patrick if he wakes up and starts crying, which he probably will, since he didn’t while you were gone.” He glanced down at Dean. “That okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “Babe, I left the dishes in the sink. Can you get them in the dishwasher?”

Aidan nodded, kissing Dean’s cheek quickly. “I’ll come back if Paddy starts crying,” he promised before leaving the bedroom. He went into the kitchen, and used the brakes on his wheelchair so that he could sit on the wheel and reach the dishes in the sink more easily. He scrubbed off some difficult pieces of food that was stuck on a couple of the plates and dishes, and then loaded them into the dishwasher. When he was just about to start the washer, he heard a tiny cry, and he quickly hit the button to start it before quickly heading back to the bedroom. “Hey, bug,” he said soothingly, picking his sobbing son up. “Let’s change you and get you something to eat. Want some yummy formula? Yeah, I bet you do,” he added, smiling over Dean as Luke massaged and stretched the blond man’s muscles.

“I’m really impressed that he can roll around with only one arm on the wheel,” Luke commented as Aidan left the room. “Seriously, that is some impressive parenting.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah,” he answered, moving his neck into a more comfortable position. “It’s a little hard to steer, so he’s not as precise as usual, but it works.” He winced a little as Luke stretched his right arm. “Fuck, I need to get back on the track before my arm, like, dies.”

The Welshman laughed. “Yeah, that sounds pretty likely,” he said, backing down a little on the stretching so that Dean wouldn’t be so uncomfortable. “Do you want me to do this again in the morning? It might help,” he added, “especially since you don’t want to be stiff when you go to the track.”

“Good plan,” Dean answered. “I’ll probably just do two hours tomorrow, and I’m not coaching for three more weeks. I should only be at the track for three or so hours at the most every day that I train.” He groaned as Luke started to massage his shoulder. “Damn, that feels good.”

“You’d better not be stealing my man, Luke,” Aidan teased as he came back into the room, with one hand on a wheel, one hand holding Patrick, and the warm bottle between his legs. “I’ve got two murderball teams who love me and would be willing to beat you up,” he added with a grin as he stopped next to the bed and popped the plastic nipple into his son’s mouth to feed him.

Luke snorted. “I can’t steal a man who doesn’t want to be stolen,” he replied, continuing to massage Dean’s shoulder. “I still can’t believe he was born with so much hair.” He looked at Patrick fondly. “Feel better, man?” he asked, turning back to Dean.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, yawning a little. “You can head home. You’ll be here at eight for the track, right?”

The Welshman made a noise of agreement. “Definitely,” he said. “Bye, guys. Bye, Paddy,” he added, giving the infant a kiss on the forehead before letting himself out and locking the door behind himself.

“How’s my little snuggly guy?” Dean cooed, shifting as much as he could to look down at Patrick with a big smile. “He’s my sweet little strong baby, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”

Aidan smiled widely. “I don’t think he has that much muscle mass yet,” he said, rocking Patrick a little back and forth. “He’ll have some kick-ass arms by the time he’s a toddler, though, since he’ll start with pulling himself on the ground before we can get him a chair or prosthetics.”

“We’ll have the most kick-ass baby around,” Dean agreed. “Want to hand him off to me so you can get ready for bed?”

Once Patrick was safely in Dean’s arms, Aidan went back to the kitchen to turn out the light, and then put on flannel pajama pants with the bottom half of the legs cut off. “Give me a sec and I’ll be back to cuddle.” He popped into the bathroom to pee and brush his teeth, and when he came out, Patrick was snoozing on Dean’s chest. “Let me put him to bed,” he said, taking his son and putting him in his basinet before climbing into bed next to Dean and pulling his book off the bedside table. “You want to read or anything?” he asked, hand hovering over Dean’s Kindle; it was easier for the older man to push buttons rather than turn pages.

Dean shook his head. “I want to get to sleep early. I’ve got to be up at eight and at the track by nine.” He rested his head on Aidan’s shoulder once the Irishman settled down comfortably to read his book. “You know, Luke brought up… I mean, he asked…” He paused a little awkwardly. “We can put Patrick in the nursery for a little while so we can, uh… fuck.”

After a moment, the younger man laughed a little. “I’ve never seen you that awkward about sex,” he said, giving his husband a little kiss on the top of his head. “We haven’t had any energy for the past week, but if you want, we could tomorrow.” He rolled his eyes. “Oh, God. We’ve become those people—the ones who schedule sex. I guess that’s life as a parent. If you want to be awake for the track, it’s probably not a good time for it.” He smiled. “It’s not exactly a short process for you to get it up and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean laughed. “Make fun of the quadriplegic; real sensitive.” He tilted his head up in order to get a kiss. “You’re right, though. I’m going to sleep.” He squirmed a little to get himself off Aidan’s shoulder, mumbling a thanks when the younger man helped him and pulled the blankets up over their bodies.

Within a few minutes, Aidan could hear his husband gently snoring. After an hour of reading, he put down his book, and let himself fall asleep for a couple hours before Patrick started crying.


	33. Post-Practice

“ _You_ look happy,” Aidan said with a grin as Dean rolled into the house in his manual chair. “Have fun with training?” he asked, smiling as the older man leaned forward with a little help from Luke and gave him a kiss.

Dean looked ecstatic. “It was amazing,” he said excitedly. “I didn’t lose that much with my week off, so I’m back to trying for a world record. How was Patrick?” he added, getting back up in his chair.

“He’s been good. We’ve been cuddled up here on the couch for a couple hours with his blanket. A week old and he loves the damn thing,” Aidan said. “You shower at the track?”

The older man nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to switch to my power chair and then make some lunch. Have you eaten?” When his husband shook his head, Dean told him, “I’ll make you something. Want a sandwich or something else?”

“Chicken salad sandwich would be great,” Aidan answered. “Oh, Richard called. He said Adam’s going to come on Friday night to bring us food and meet Paddy, and then Graham will be around on Monday night for more food. He mentioned a couple British track people I don’t know, but he said they’re going to pop by to drop off some food next week.”

“Awesome,” Dean said, grinning. “Give me, like, two minutes and I’ll get your sandwich,” he promised before wheeling back into his room with Luke trailing behind. The Welshman lifted him into his power chair and got him settled. “Thanks, man. You’re good to go home ‘til tonight.”

Luke nodded and said his goodbyes, calling out to Aidan and Patrick before he left. Dean, meanwhile, headed into the kitchen and managed to get some bread into the toaster with only a little difficulty. “I had a great time on my 500 meters today,” he said happily, looking over the counter as well as he could.

“That’s awesome!” Aidan said, genuinely excited about his husband’s work. “You’re definitely going to Tokyo in a couple years. That’ll be so fun, won’t it?” he added to Patrick in a cheerful voice. “You’ll go to Japan with your daddies, and you’ll get to see one daddy win a bunch of gold medals again because he’s the best in the world. You’ll be eating real food by then, bug, so you’ll get to try Japanese food. That’s going to be so yummy.”

Dean smiled, pulling a container of chicken salad out of the fridge as he waited for the toast to pop up. He pulled a couple plates out of a drawer that they had loaded up for easy access as well as a spoon to use to scoop the chicken onto the toast. “I love competing, but half of my excitement about Tokyo is for the food. We should stay there for some extra time after the games, just for a vacation and great food.” The toast popped up and he took it out, making two sandwiches efficiently. While many things were hard to make, he was great with sandwiches. He put the plates on his lap and went over to the couch next to Aidan.

“Thanks, babe,” Aidan said, holding Patrick with his right arm and using his hand to take the plate and put it on the couch near him, picking up his sandwich and taking a bite. “Do you need to do any work this afternoon, or are you good to just hang out? Or,” he added, grinning a little, “stick the kid in the nursery and bang.”

The older man rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. “I’ve got some work to do, babe. Sex was scheduled for tonight, not this afternoon.” He looked at his computer where it sat on the coffee table, sighing. “I think I need to edit a few fliers and emails to send out to possible participants and parents, and then send some stuff out to the staff involved with each one, and I’ve got to find some cool Paralympians volunteers to go to the events.”

“I’ll make you some tea when you start,” Aidan promised. There wasn’t much else he could do for his husband while he worked, but tea would be good. “When you’re done, though, can you watch Patrick while I shower?”

Dean nodded. “I can watch him while I work, if you want to shower now. I’ll just take a break when he cries.”

Aidan shrugged. “It’s fine. I’d rather let you get your work done fast so you can just hang out with Patrick instead of working while watching him. You deserve to have some relaxing time with him too. I get to do that all the time ‘cause I’m not working, but you should get to do it too. He doesn’t do much, but he’s still fun, and super cuddly.” Aidan smiled at the baby in his arms. “Aren’t you, bug?” he cooed. “Hey, after you’re done with work, can we do some financial planning?”

“Ah, my beautiful husband, the banker,” Dean said with a smirk. “But yeah. We should do some of that for when Patrick starts needing more stuff than just formula and other baby stuff. I hate to think of all our expenses, but we have to.” He groaned a little. “Wheelchairs and prosthetics and shit are so damn expensive,” he said when Aidan looked at him. “Worth it for that little guy, though.”

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. “Want me to leave the room while you work, babe?” he asked, noticing that Dean, like him, was finished with his sandwich.

Dean thought for a moment. “Probably a good plan. I’ll get done faster without distractions, and Patrick crying every hour is pretty distracting.”

“Okay,” Aidan said simply, briefly handing Patrick over to Dean so he could transfer to his wheelchair and put their plates in the dishwasher. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he told the older man he took their son back and started to roll away. He glanced back as he saw Dean open his laptop and start to work. “We’re going to be nice and quiet now, bug,” he said softly to Patrick, smiling at the sleeping boy in his arms. He loved how the infant clutched his soft blanket in his sleep; it was damn cute.

He put Patrick in the basinet and pulled a thick resistance band out of a drawer so that he could get some exercise while he was unable to go to the gym. He tied one end around his right arm and clutched the other in his left fist and started to do various pulls, wrapping the band around the bedpost for some of the different exercises. He stopped, a little sweaty, when Patrick started sniffling. “I bet you need a change, bug. Daddy is a bit gross and smelly now, but you’ll still get that change.” He was contemplating the efficiency of their setup as he took Paddy into the nursery; whenever he needed a change, they always had to go back to the nursery despite the fact the basinet was in their bedroom. “Are you cool with hanging out in the crib here for a little while tonight?” he asked, blowing a raspberry on Patrick’s stomach as he undressed him. “We moved you into the bedroom for our convenience, and I don’t think you’re big enough to get all upset being apart from us yet, but, you know, just checking.”

Patrick blinked up at him through his tears.

“Thanks,” Aidan replied cheerfully. “It’ll just be an hour or so. Maybe longer, ‘cause Daddy and I might shower.” He paused. “Bug, we need different names for me and Other Daddy. It’s getting confusing already, and you were only born eight days ago.”

Patrick stopped crying once he was changed, and Aidan took him back to the bedroom, rocking him gently before putting him down to sleep and starting to read once more. He had to pause a few minute later, though, when his phone began to trill and vibrate next to him. “Aidan Turner,” he answered automatically, pressing the phone against his ear, answering without looking at the caller ID; if it continued to ring, he risked Patrick waking up.

“Hey, man! It’s Adam,” piped up a cheerful voice on the other end of the line. “I was just checking about coming over on Friday. Is there any time that’s better than others? I’m going to the track for some training in the morning, and I can just come over after lunch, but if that’s too early or anything, I’ll wait ‘til later.”

Aidan smiled; he was just happy to hear Adam’s voice, and it would be great to see the other man in a few days. “No, that sounds great. I’m really glad you’re coming over.”

“I’ll just stay for an hour or so,” Adam told the Irishman. “I know that new parents have a fuck ton to do and tend to be tired. Are you training at all this week?”

“Yeah,” Aidan answered. “I’ve got an early morning practice tomorrow, an evening one on Friday, and an afternoon one on Saturday. Dean’s training on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, and he’s coaching after training on Mondays and Thursdays.”

Adam laughed a little. “That sounds complicated,” he commented. “I’m sure it’s worth it for a kid and all, but I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.”

“It works,” Aidan said with a shrug, even though Adam couldn’t see him. “I’m on paternity leave, and Dean’s working from home. He’s working on planning some recruiting events, or, like… I think they’re interest events. They aren’t necessarily recruiting for the national team, but just getting people into sports. He’s probably going to ask you to go to some, if you can. It’s great for the kids to meet some real Paralympians.”

“I’d be happy to, if they’re on the weekends,” Adam responded cheerfully. “There’s not a lot of kids with leg length difference, or at least not many who have it beyond inserts in their shoes. I think a lot of clinics, though, people with any disability who are ambulatory teach the ambulatory kids. A woman with CP worked with all the ambulatory people at the clinic I first ran at, and the participants were people with CP, amputations, and… me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re interested and he just needs to talk to you about scheduling. That’s great,” Aidan said happily. “He’s going to be so happy you’re helping out.”

“It’s no problems,” Adam assured him. “I’ll let you go, but I’ll see you on Friday! Let me know if you need more food beforehand, and I’ll ask someone else from the team to send something ‘round.”

Aidan paused for a moment. “I think we’re okay. My parents left some frozen food, so we should be fine ‘til Friday. We’ll just need some food to make it through the weekend, ‘cause Graham’s coming on Monday. Thanks, man. You’re the best.”

“You’re welcome, Aid. I’ll see you in a few days!”

When Adam hung up, Aidan put his phone back and went back to reading. He only looked up when Patrick began to make the little snuffling sound he always made before the tears started. He slid into his wheelchair and went over to his son, rocking him gently as he carried him into the kitchen. “We’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” he promised Dean as the older man looked up from his work. “How’s it going?”

Dean smiled as he watched Aidan comfort their son as he made the bottle. “I should be done in another half-hour, and then you can take your shower. What time is your practice tomorrow morning?”

“Six,” Aidan answered. “I’ll get up at five, leave by half-past, and be home by nine at the latest. Is Luke coming at seven or eight?”

“Seven,” Dean answered. “Before you go, you can get me into my power chair. It’s got the headrest so I can sleep, but I’ll be able to grab Patrick if he wakes up.”

Aidan looked at Dean with a less than happy expression. “That can’t be good for you.”

“It’s only for a couple hours.”

“I’m going to argue about it with you, but only once you’ve finished your work,” Aidan said, shaking his head. “Let me know when you’re done, babe,” he added, taking Patrick and his bottle back into the bedroom. “We’re going to be nice and quiet, bug, so Daddy can finish his work and then this Daddy can explain to your other Daddy about why sitting in his power chair for two hours is a terrible life choice.” He sighed. “Okay, this Daddy and Daddy thing is already driving me nuts. Let’s call your other father Daddy, and I can be Da, ‘cause I’m Irish and all that. Sound like a plan?”

Patrick kept sucking on his bottle, his eyes drifting closed. Aidan decided to take that as agreement. He smiled at his son, letting him finish his bottle and burp a little before putting him back in the basinet.

It was more like an hour by the time Dean was done, and he came into the bedroom to find Aidan asleep with a book on his chest. He smiled and gave his husband a brief kiss on the cheek, blinking in surprise when the younger man woke up from the soft contact. “Sorry,” Dean said quietly. “I didn’t think that would wake you up.”

Aidan mumbled wordlessly as he sat up. “It’s fine. I was just dozing a little. You finished work, babe?” he asked, waking up a little more when Dean nodded. “Paddy and I decided that you can be Daddy and I can be Da. It was getting really confusing talking to him about both of us. I can’t keep calling you ‘other Daddy’ to this kid or he’s going to think that’s your name.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean said cheerfully. “That said, it’s my choice to sit in my chair tomorrow morning so that I can take care of Patrick. I know you’re trying to help or whatever, but I have a… thing about independent choices. You know that. More to the point, though, I can’t ask Luke to come that early, and I can’t get into my chair without help. Somebody has to take to be able to get Patrick out of his basinet and move to change him and get him a bottle.”

Uncomfortably, Aidan shook his head. “I know it’s your choice and I respect that, I really do, but you’re going to get pressure sores if you sleep in it. This isn’t an ableist thing where I don’t think you can make your own decisions, this is a husband thing where I’m worried about you.”

“I get that,” Dean said, though he still wasn’t smiling. “I don’t want pressure sores either, but I can’t just let our kid lie there for two hours because I can’t get to him. Look, Luke checks me every day for pressure sores, and you do too. Doing this once a week until we get something figured out isn’t going to kill me.”

Aidan sighed. “But who knows how long it will be before we can figure that out?” he asked. “Infection would be so bad, love. Look, tomorrow you can do it, but we’ve got to figure out a permanent solution by next week, yeah?”

“Fine,” Dean said, clearly still a little annoyed. “I get the final say in the end, though,” he added firmly. Though Aidan’s heart was in the right place, Dean had experienced others deciding things for him far too many times. Too many people in his life had told him what was best for him since the accident—his parents, some of his friends (many of whom were now former friends), some of his first PCAs… everyone thought that they knew better than he did.

“Of course, babe,” Aidan answered. “Look, I’m not trying to be a douchebag about it, but it’s a matter of health and I can’t just let you get hurt…”

Dean glared a little. “You’re not ‘letting me get hurt’ because I’m making my own decisions. I can’t transfer in and out of my wheelchair by myself, I can’t shower without help, but I’m still a fucking adult and I’m not a complete dependent because I make my own choices. You’re usually supportive of that and get it, so what’s wrong with this? Look, if I get a pressure sore, it’s my own fault. Whatever. I’m not going to let you tell me what _not_ to do without even offering an alternative. Independent,” he said, gesturing at his body with his right hand.

“Are you just arguing about this because I’m giving you suggestions of what to do and that pisses you off?” Aidan asked, getting frustrated. “I get it, it’s a principle or whatever, but maybe you should listen to me, because it’s a stupid decision and you’re going to give yourself pressure sores because you’re too stubborn to listen to me when I’m right.”

“Shut up,” Dean muttered tersely. “Just stop. Whatever, I’m a stubborn jerk because I don’t like letting other people make my decisions. I’m a piece of shit and you know best because I clearly don’t know nearly as much as about my body as you do. Just shut up if that’s all you have to say, because I already got all that.”

Aidan chewed at his lip, feeling bad but still thinking that his husband would be making an unhealthy decision. “I don’t know your health better than you, and you’re not a piece of shit, but… Jesus, Dean, I just feel like you’re letting yourself get pressure sores just to prove your independence. You are independent, but that doesn’t mean my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“Again with the whole thing where our kid could literally cry for over an hour or a half before Luke gets here. He wouldn’t get fed and he wouldn’t get changed. What if something bigger is wrong? If he somehow chokes, I can’t do a goddamn thing. You’re the one being an idiot about this, and I said we’d figure out a different solution over the weekend. Please just fucking stop.”

Aidan stopped. He knew that he was pushing too hard and he didn't want to be an asshole. As long as they actually figured out a way to take care of Patrick during his Wednesday morning practices, he didn’t need to turn the issue into a fight. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Want anything to eat?” he asked, offering food as an olive branch to his husband.

Dean rolled his eyes; though Aidan was trying to be nice, it was still ridiculous. “We ate a few hours ago. Go take your shower,” he said, moving a little away so that the younger man could maneuver his chair into the bathroom. He wheeled close to Patrick’s basinet, sighing a little as he looked down at him. “Look, Da means well, he’s just getting grouchy. He might be right, but he went about it being a bit demanding and Daddy doesn’t like being told what to do, even if it’s Da. See, Daddy has had a lot of people tell him what to do, and it’s not a nice feeling.” He paused. “That said, buddy, when Da and I tell you what to do, you’d better listen. We get to tell you what to do because we’re your parents and that’s that.”

Realizing that Aidan had been right when he said that while he spent a lot of time relaxing with Patrick, Dean didn’t due to work, the New Zealander carefully lifted his son out of the basinet and cuddled him close. Yeah, he wasn’t awake, but he was still cute and had soft skin. “You’re going to grow up to be such an independent guy, though. A lot of people are going to tell you that you can’t be independent, but they’re wrong. Look at Da, who does all kinds of things by himself.” He stopped, shaking his head a little. “That’s not for a few more years, though. Right now, you should focus on things like sleeping and eating enough and maybe learning to roll over sometime.” Tilting his head down a tiny bit, he gave Patrick a kiss. “You don’t even have to roll over. We’ll still be proud of you, buddy.”

Patrick slowly blinked awake. When Dean smiled down at him, he realized that his son wasn’t crying. It was so exciting that the blond had to consciously keep himself from wiggling happily and upsetting Patrick.

“Hi, baby,” he said, beaming. “Look at you, all awake! Do you think you can stay awake so Da can see you like this too? Maybe he already has, since he hangs out with you more, but it’s still pretty great.” He started rocking his arm as well as he could, hoping to keep Patrick calm. “There’s Da now!” he chirped happily when he heard the water of the shower turn off.

Aidan was wearing only boxers, using a towel to dry his hair with one hand and wheeling with the other, when he came back into the bedroom. “Hey, you two,” he said cheerfully.

“He’s awake and not crying,” Dean told his husband. “What a great little guy.”

Smiling, Aidan leaned over Dean’s shoulder to see Patrick. “Hey, bug. Are you excited to have some time with just Daddy for a bit? Yeah, I’ve been hogging you a lot, and now it’s Daddy’s turn.” He turned his head to kiss Dean’s cheek. “I need to take a picture to send to your parents. Give me a minute to dry off and get dressed, and don’t stop looking adorable together.” Even though he knew he could take a picture of his husband and son whenever he wanted, Aidan really wanted his in-laws to see this moment. The reality of no sleep and bins full of diapers was not exactly photogenic, but there were a few minutes every day where they looked, as well as felt, like the perfect little family. He pulled jeans and a light sweater out of the dresser and pulled them on, carefully folding the extra fabric on his jeans under his stumps—he left always left a little to tuck under when he cut them to the right length. He didn’t mind how his stumps looked, but it looked unprofessional as hell to wear cutoffs all the time. On his right side, he pushed the sleeve up so that the tip of his arm stuck out; he hated the way it looked and felt to feel a sleeve flapping around loosely with every moment.

Dean barely noticed when Aidan leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone to snap a quick photo. He only glanced up when his husband started to talk.

“I just emailed a picture to your parents,” the younger man said. “They’ll love it,” he added, putting his phone back down. “I was thinking that I’d bake the lasagna my ma left with us tonight. Does that sound good?” Dinner wouldn’t be for a while, but his mother had told him to keep the lasagna in the oven for about an hour, so it made sense to start planning ahead.

“That’d be great,” Dean replied gratefully. “I need it after my training today, and you need it for practice tomorrow. Two birds, one stone,” he finished cheerfully.

Aidan nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Hey,” he added softly, touching Dean’s right arm gently. “I’m sorry for being so… I don’t even know the words. I told you what to do instead of giving you a suggestion and leaving it up to you, and that’s not okay when it comes to your body. I know that, I was just… whatever. I’m sorry,” he repeated to finish.

Dean smiled a little. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I know you mean well and all, but it’s important to me that the final decision is mine. Suggest away, but no telling me what to do, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Patrick chose that moment to start tearing up, distracting both men. “Do you need something to eat?” Dean asked, rocking his son gently in hopes of warding off real sobs. “Maybe a change?” He carefully moved Patrick to his right arm so that he could lift him up and smell. “Yeah, a change.”

“I can do that,” Aidan said cheerfully, plucking their son out of Dean’s arms right as he started to cry loudly. “Okay, yeah, bug, give me two minutes and you’ll be happy again, I swear.”

Dean was all too happy to let Aidan deal with the dirty diaper; anyway, the younger man had blocked his way to the door, so it wasn’t like he could have gone to the nursery without Aidan moving a lot too. That was enough excuse for him. He loved being a dad, and was happy that he could take care of his son independently, but diapers were not his favorite part. How did someone so tiny produce so much waste? He smiled widely as Aidan carried Patrick back in. “All better?” he asked, looking down at the blinking little boy. He looked up at Aidan. “Hey, I was thinking that we should have my boss over in a couple months. He’s been an amputee since he was two and he walks, I think, so he knows a lot about prosthetics for kids. When Jonnie drops off some food, I’ll ask him if he knows of any resources. My boss is kind of old, so Jonnie might know more of the modern stuff.”

“Having your boss over sounds great,” Aidan answered, smiling widely as he rocked Patrick gently. “As long as it isn’t too stressful for you. And you’re talking about Jonnie Peacock, yeah? He’s got a single BTK amputation, right?”

“Right,” Dean answered cheerfully. “He’s really great. I’ll email my boss to ask about dinner. Tomorrow,” he added. “I’m looking forward to spending the rest of the day with my family.” He shifted his arms so that Aidan could hand Patrick over to him. “Yeah, I’m going to spend it with you, buddy,” he cooed, watching as his son blinked tiredly. “Do you want to hang out with me while I read? Because I have a feeling you’re going to fall asleep again soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTK = below the knee


	34. Scheduled Sex: Not Spontaneous, Still Fun

At 7:30, Luke came back to the apartment, smiling as he saw the small family sitting at the table. The two fathers were talking quietly, and Patrick was sleeping peacefully in Aidan’s arms.

“Hi,” Dean said, looking up when Luke approached the table. “I’m good to do my evening routine now,” he added. “I’m hoping you can get home at a pretty good time. I just need to brush my teeth, go to the bathroom, and get in my pajamas. Aid has to get up early for practice so we’ll be going to bed early,” he explained as he led the way into the bathroom.

Luke nodded as he followed and they carefully worked on brushing Dean’s teeth to start. Once the blond was on the toilet, the Welshman leaned against the counter lazily. “Did you ask me to come back this early because of Aidan’s early practice, or because you have other evening plans?” he asked with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m betting I’ll have a better night than you,” Dean answered cheerfully. “I mean, that and Aidan has to get up at five in the morning for practice. He’s going to get my in my power chair before he leaves so that I can get to Paddy when he starts crying, so I’ll be, like, kind of up when you get here. I won’t be dressed or anything, but I’ll be awake.” He tilted his head and cracked his neck a little. “Do you have any big plans for tonight?” he asked Luke.

“Nah,” the brunet answered. “I’m going on a date on Saturday, though,” he added with a huge grin. “I’ll tell you all about it on Sunday morning. I don’t really have plans for the rest of the week. I really like my job, man, don’t get me wrong, but I work pretty weird hours during the week.”

Dean nodded; the Welshman was right, since most jobs didn’t involve working until nine. “If you want to change up your hours, we can,” he offered. “We can figure out a way to give you the evenings off. If I’m not doing anything at night, I can shower and put on pajamas before dinner. Aidan can help me brush my teeth and go to the bathroom.”

“I might take you up on that occasionally, but I don’t need that all the time,” Luke answered, helping Dean get cleaned up and then back into his chair. “It’d be hard for you and Aidan to both be getting you ready for bed _and_ keeping an eye on Patrick.”

“We could do it,” Dean pointed out while Luke put toothpaste on his toothbrush and ran some tap water over it. “Aidan could leave me in the bathroom for a few minutes while he takes care of Patrick. Seriously, Luke, you can take an evening off whenever you want.”

They stopped talking as the brunet carefully guided the toothbrush over Dean’s teeth. Luke paused instinctively when he heard Patrick start to cry in the next room, but started again when Aidan’s calm voice shushed the little boy. “You sure you just want to get in your pajamas after this? I don’t mind sticking around for a while if you want to wait.”

Dean snorted. “Remember the part where I have plans?” he asked after he had spat into the sink. “You should get your sorry butt out of here as soon as possible,” he added with a grin, carefully picking up his plastic cup to rinse his mouth out.

Smirking, Luke led the way into the bedroom. “Have any sexy pajamas you want to put on?” he teased as he pulled boxer briefs and plaid flannel pants out of the chest of drawers.

“I’m pretty sure sexy pajamas only exist for women,” Dean told the Welshman. “I don’t have the, uh, flair to pull off the sad attempts at sexy stuff for men. Sexy men’s pajamas always look like horrible jokes.” He put his hands on the bed and pushed his upper body up as the other man moved his legs for him. “Oh, hey, babe,” he added as Aidan came into the bedroom, holding Patrick in one arm and a warm bottle on his lap.

Aidan smiled widely, stopping next to Dean’s abandoned wheelchair to feed their son. “This little bug is probably going to fall asleep after his bottle. He’s got to be tired after staying awake for a couple hours this afternoon. You’ll be good to head home early, if you, you know, want to,” he added to his husband’s PCA.

Luke suppressed a laugh. “Yeah, real subtle, Aidan,” he said, rolling his eyes and starting to take Dean’s pants off. “I’ll be gone in a couple minutes and you two can get down to business.” He carefully worked the rest of the Kiwi’s clothes off before sliding on his pajamas, checking for any developing pressure sores or bruises as he did so. “You guys, uh, have fun,” he said with a smirk when he finished, tickling Patrick’s stomach before he headed out the door of the flat, leaving the small family alone.

On the bed, Dean turned his head to look over at his husband and son fondly. “Paddy, you’re going to grow so fast in the next couple weeks, aren’t you? You eat a lot buddy, and that’s how you grow big,” he cooed down to the little boy.

“For tonight, though, let’s settle for sleeping for the next couple hours,” Aidan added, grinning. “Can you do that, bug? Sleep a couple hours and give me and Daddy a little break? Not that we need a break from you, see…”

Dean laughed softly. “Well, we do, a bit,” he corrected his husband. “We’ll bring you back here, though, buddy, and tomorrow morning will be Paddy and Daddy time while your Da goes to rugby practice.” His neck starting to feel a little stiff, he turned his head back to a forward-facing position, looking out of the corner of his eyes in order to sort of see his family.

“How are you feeling?” Aidan asked, noticing the way the blond winced a little while moving his neck. “See, that’s just going to be worse tomorrow after you sit around in your chair for a couple hours.”

Suppressing a sigh, Dean shook his head. “We’re married and you still haven’t figured out that I basically live in it,” he teased, though he knew Aidan’s protests had to do with him sleeping in it rather than just sitting in it. “That discussion’s over, yeah?” He strained his eyes a little to look down at Patrick; the infant had pretty clearly just fallen asleep, and Dean grinned widely. “Oh, look, it’s time for sex,” he said cheerfully.

With a reciprocating smile, Aidan nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll put him in his crib and be right back,” he told his husband, heading out of the bedroom and to the nursery, where he carefully put Patrick down on his back in the crib. “Please, _please_ just stay asleep for an hour or two, bug,” he whispered as he turned on the two handsets of the baby monitor. “We’ll be right here if you start crying,” he promised, and then left the room, the receiver of the monitor on his lap. He closed both the nursery door and the bedroom door. With a sultry smile, he flicked off the overhead light, leaving a lamp to provide a dim glow by which to see each other.

“Ooh, romantic lighting,” Dean mumbled, relaxing back into the pillows as Aidan pulled himself onto the bed. “Guess if we can’t do this very often, we’d better do it right,” he added, looking up at the younger man as he straddled him and began to pull off his shirt.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed breathily, throwing his shirt to the side before leaning down to kiss the Kiwi deeply, grinding his hips down hard against Dean’s so that his dick would wake up and join the party. “I know it would be weird if you asked Luke to just… not put on your pajamas and just sort of leave you lying around naked, but it’s a bit ridiculous that you put them on just for me to take them back off,” he muttered as he rolled off of his husband to pull his flannel pants and boxer briefs off. It took some effort, since his legs were pretty stiff that day, but soon they were on the floor by Aidan’s t-shirt, and quickly followed by Aidan’s own jeans and boxers.

Dean let out a shaky breath, running his closed-up left hand over the brunet’s lower back and the upper swell of his ass and watching, transfixed, as Aidan made a show of rolling his hips in tight circles. “You’re hot as fuck,” he commented softly, gasping loudly when his husband’s nimble fingers found purchase on his nipple and began to tease it. With all the muted or absent sensation in so much of his body, Dean’s nipples were possible his favorite erogenous zone; he liked his cock and all, and his prostate was pretty cool, but intercourse was only top choice because it was so connective. If it were just his own pleasure he was looking for, he would frankly choose nipple stimulation over fucking any day of the week. With a partner, though… he wanted something for both of them, something that got them as close as possible.

“You look like you could come from that alone,” Aidan commented with a smirk as he pinched Dean’s nipple a little rougher than usual. “If that’s what you want, babe, you know I’ll give it to you,” he added. They hadn’t really done it before, but he knew that Dean liked to do that while he was alone. “Come on, babe, tell me what you want.”

“What I really, really want?” Dean teased, reaching up with his right hand to carefully scratch his nails down Aidan’s back. “You should ride me like I’m a show pony. If you’re getting off fast, work my nipples so I can get there too, yeah?” He smiled, squirming a little under the younger man’s skillful pinches and rubs. “Not to be rude or anything, but I have a bit of a feeling that this won’t last too long.”

Aidan shrugged with a cheerfully self-deprecating smile. “You’re probably right about that,” he admitted, leaning down to kiss his husband once again, feeling their erections fill out against their bodies. “Fuck,” he groaned softly, eyes rolling back a little as he shivered in pleasure.

“Mm, go ahead and open yourself up,” Dean instructed, breathing hard as Aidan let up on his nipples. “I don’t want to, uh, break the mood or anything, but we should probably do this quick.”

Shaking his head and smirking, Aidan leaned over to the bedside table and pulled the lube out of the drawer. “People aren’t kidding when they say a baby kills the romance,” he muttered, but he was still happy to have time for sex, even if it was rushed. “Dean,” he breathed, using his right arm to prop himself up and the left to open himself up efficiently. “God, you look good,” he added, grunting loudly as he pressed a second finger inside himself.

“Says the hot man fingering himself on top of me,” Dean groaned, biting his lip in arousal. “You’re amazing,” he added, watching, enraptured, as Aidan rode his fingers with sharp jerks of his hips. “Kiss me?” he added hopefully, looking up at the brunet above him.

Obligingly, Aidan bent his left arm to lean down and press his lips against Dean’s, immediately licking his way into the older man’s mouth. He knew that the kiss was sloppy and lacked finesse, but he felt it was pretty good, considering the awkward angle and the fact he had two fingers pressing into his prostate. “I’m… I’m ready,” he gasped when he pulled away a minute later.

“You sure?” Dean asked, chest heaving as he worked to catch his breath. “I know we’re trying to be fast, but you don’t need to rip your ass up on my cock, babe.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I’m sure,” he answered, spreading the excess lube from his fingers onto his husband’s erection before sinking down slowly with a drawn-out, soft moan. “Yeah, sure,” he repeated in a tight voice once his ass was flush against Dean’s hips. “Oh, God. That’s… yeah.”

Dean slid his right hand over the younger man’s thigh, following it up until his fingers hovered at Aidan’s groin. “Shall I?” he asked with a smirk. He felt a stab of arousal at the wild look in his husband’s eyes as he nodded, and he carefully stroked two fingers down the stiff cock that was bobbing along with every tiny movement they made. “You’re so fucking hot,” he muttered, watching the way the Irishman’s stomach tightened as he shuddered in pleasure.

It took a few moments for Aidan to regain the self-control he needed to start riding his husband properly, but once he could do it, he didn’t half-ass it. He gripped the headboard tightly in his right elbow so that he could pull himself up and let himself sink down roughly, setting a pace hard enough that Dean wouldn’t lose his erection. “Oh, Christ,” he groaned, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet as he felt spastic fingers brush up against his hard-on, spreading precome around just a little with each careful movement. “Dean,” he whimpered, and, with a bit of a start, he remembered that he was supposed to be helping the older man along as well. “Shit, yeah, nipples,” he muttered distractedly, still jerking his hips as he reached his left hand down and pinched at a pebbled nub of pink flesh.

“Yes, _that_ ,” Dean cried out, and then immediately bit his lip so that he wouldn’t let anymore noises out. He sure as hell wasn’t going to risk waking their son up when they were partway through _finally_ having sex again. Okay, yeah, it had only been a week or so, but it felt like longer. “Fuck, keep that up,” he added before quickly biting his lip again.

Aidan would have grinned at how much simple movements of his fingers affected his husband, but he was too caught up in his own pleasure, from the way Dean’s thick, blunt cock hammered against his prostate and stiff, awkward fingers moved over his erection. He moaned wordlessly as he moved a little faster, trying to get himself off. “I’m… I’m close,” he grunted, pinching Dean’s nipple especially hard to get his point across.

“Yeah,” Dean breathed. “Me too. Just… little more,” he added, arching his neck. It was almost a reflex, really, since his spine didn’t arch into touch like it had when he was able-bodied, but he knew that it let Aidan see just how much he was enjoying everything. “Come on, just like… like…” he trailed off, feeling an orgasm much stronger than the usual ones he got from simple penetration, creeping up on him. “Aidan, Aid, I…” He suck in a breath and forced himself to close his mouth, muffling his own high-pitched, wordless cries as he came, moving his hand away from the younger man’s groin so that his fingers wouldn’t spasm and breach the gap between pleasurable and painful pressure.

“God, babe,” Aidan moaned softly, pulling his hand away from Dean’s chest to wrap it around his own cock and stroke himself firmly. After just a few pulls, he let out a quiet groan and came across the beautiful stomach and chest below him. “Fuck,” he mumbled once he rubbed himself through all of his orgasm, shivering a little before he fell off of Dean and onto the bed next to him. “We should put sex on your intense color-coded calendar,” he suggested.

Laughing breathlessly, Dean nodded. “Good idea,” he agreed, smiling tiredly. “Can you grab a cloth to clean us up?” he asked hopefully after a minute in comfortable, exhausted silence.

Aidan pushed himself up on somewhat shaky arms and transferred into his wheelchair. Sluggishly, he wheeled into the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth, which he wiped over Dean gently.

“That was really good,” the New Zealander commented, talking just loud enough for Aidan to hear him as he went back into the bathroom to rinse the cloth off. “I don’t usually need that, since we don’t rush or anything, but it was really, really good,” he explained as his husband came back into the room.

“We can change up our non-rushed sex, if it’s so good,” Aidan promised. “Seriously, no need to have less-than-amazing sex just because we aren’t going as fast as possible so that we won’t wake Patrick up.” He paused. “Hey, he managed not to interrupt!” he said cheerfully. “I’ll get him and bring him in here to sleep the rest of the night, yeah?”

Dean nodded, smiling lazily. “Yeah.”


	35. WOW did you know babies grow up???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gone for a while and all my friends' babies grew up and it is so weird to see that. Also I got a summer internship so if you're into my personal life or whatever please be proud of me! Someone from the place I'm working is maybe going to be leaving in the fall so I may try to get her job when I graduate in December!!!

When Aidan got back from practice at 8:30 the next morning, the whole apartment smelled nice. “What is that?” he asked loudly as he went into bedroom to throw his workout clothes in the laundry basket.

From the kitchen, Dean called back, “Breakfast!” He was sitting in his power chair, a spatula in his right hand, and keeping watch over the sausages on the stove. “Luke brought over some sausages and fresh bread for toast,” he added loudly for Aidan’s benefit. He quieted down, though, and turned to his son, who was in Luke’s arms as the Welshman fed him. “See, this is yet another reason we love your Uncle Luke,” he explained to the infant.

“I’m also just all-around great,” Luke told Patrick, grinning. It was nice to come in for work so early and find that one of your duties was just holding a tiny baby. “I expect to be invited to his cute little school events,” he said to Dean, rocking a little where he stood to keep Patrick calm. “Even if you don’t need me to go as your PCA, I want to come as Uncle Luke to see him in any plays and whatnot.”

Dean smiled widely; it meant a lot that Luke would want to go to something even if he wasn’t on the clock and earning money. “That’s not going to be for a while, but definitely,” he answered.

“You could join a church in the next couple of years, just to put him in a nativity play,” Luke suggested with a teasing grin. “Hey, Aidan,” he added, turning around when he heard the Irishman coming into the kitchen. “How was practice?”

“It was so good,” Aidan answered, pulling open the fridge so that he could get some orange juice. He poured some into a cup and stuck the carton back into the refrigerator and took a long drink before continuing. “We’ve got a match in a couple weeks against a team from Swansea, so practice is ridiculously intense right now. I love it.”

Luke shook his head. “I will never understand how you and Dean love working yourselves into exhaustion during practices,” he said, pulling the bottle from Patrick’s mouth as he finished. “If I get really tired after the gym, I feel like I punished myself and then I eat ice cream or a burger or something so that I’ll feel better.”

“That is probably why you never made it to the Olympics,” Dean said with a smirk.

“That and hating sport,” Luke agreed cheerfully. “Do you want me to put the bread in the toaster, Dean?” he asked, handing Patrick off to Aidan when the blond nodded. He dropped a couple pieces of the soft bread into the toaster and pushed the lever down, and then pulled out butter and plates for when it popped back up. “You guys have any big plans for this week?”

Aidan snorted. “Seriously? We have a week old baby and we’re both back to training. You know damn well we don’t have the time or energy for anything.” He smiled down at Patrick, putting a finger in the little boy’s hand for him to grip. “Wow, bug, look at how strong you are already,” he praised sweetly. “Yeah, you keep your daddies up all night, but we love you lots.”

Patrick made a little noise, looking content as he squeezed his younger father’s finger.

“That’s right, strong,” Aidan said happily. “You’re my big strong boy, and I’m sure Daddy is going to put you in a racing chair as soon as you’re big enough, and you’re going to be so fast, bug. So fast!”

With a laugh, Luke shook his head. “This poor kid is destined to be doing sports from the day he gets his first chair or prosthetics. His big teenage rebellion is going to be choosing church youth group instead of the track.”

“Nobody said he has to do track,” Dean protested, though he was smiling too. “The only sport you have to try is swimming, little guy,” he informed his son. “You don’t have to be an athlete at all, but you’ve got to learn to swim.”

Still clutching Aidan’s finger tightly, Patrick blinked up at Dean.

“It’s a deal, then,” Dean said seriously. He stopped talking and turned away from his son in order to carefully push the pan of sausage from the hot burner to one that wasn’t on. “Hope you’re hungry, babe,” he told Aidan.

“You kidding? I just played rugby for two hours and all I’ve had today is a cup of coffee,” Aidan answered, looking excited at the prospect of a real breakfast. Even before Patrick was born, they tended to just eat cereal or granola bars quickly before heading off to work. “Need me carry anything to the table?”

“You’ve got Patrick,” Dean pointed out. “Just hang out with him at the table and I’ll bring stuff over.” He wrinkled his nose as he carefully used the spatula the put sausages onto a plate. “Oh, God, please shower after we eat. You smell terrible.”

Once the bread popped out of the toaster, Luke picked it up with the tips of his fingers and put it on a plate before stick more in.

Aidan had no delusions about his sweaty, disgusting state, and he smiled at Dean as the older man brought the sausages to the table, where plates had already been placed. “No worries,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll definitely shower after breakfast. I bet Paddy doesn’t appreciate my smell either,” he added, grinning down at his sleepy-looking son. “Go to sleep, bug,” he told the little boy, rocking him gently. “You’ll just get fussy if you stay up much longer.”

* * *

Patrick was two months old before Dean decided he could take him to practice. Aidan needed to go back to work, and their son’s tiny immune system was strong enough be around other people. So Luke loaded Patrick and his car seat into the back seat of his car along with Dean’s manual wheelchair, with the New Zealander in the front seat; not only was the accessible van that could hold the power chair equipped with hand controls for Aidan’s use, but the Irishman had taken it to work.

“Buddy, are you excited to see Daddy practice and coach?” Dean asked, turning his neck to look at his son happily. “And all of Daddy’s little racers are going to want to meet you, because you’re Da’s cute little bug and Daddy’s smart little man.”

Luke grinned as he pulled out of the apartment building’s parking garage and headed toward the track facility. “Those kids are going to love him. I just hope he isn’t upset by the big change in environment. The only place he’s been outside your flat is the hospital, when he was, you know, born, and his pediatrician.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, grimacing a little at the thought of his son being upset and of his kids getting distracted in practice by a screaming baby. “Paddy, can you try to be a calm little guy today? Can you try for Daddy? If you’re calm and quiet during practice, maybe your Da will play around on the floor with you tonight. You like when he does that, don’t you?”

“Not to be a dick about it, but can he do anything when he’s got floor time?” Luke asked. “He can’t roll yet.”

Dean shrugged. “All he can do is kind of push up his head, but we give him his blanket and soft toys to hold and Aidan likes to get on floor and move around with him. I think he wants Paddy to see how to move around without legs or something? I’m pretty sure he’d learn to do that naturally, but it makes Aidan really happy to play with him.”

“If you ever want to be a part of that, I can stay late or come early or whatever and help,” Luke said, glancing over at Dean. “It’s cool if it’s Aidan’s bonding thing, but if you want to be a part of it…” He smiled. “I know Aidan can’t really lift you off the floor without help, since the angle would be impossible, but between me and him, I think we could manage it.”

“We could try,” Dean said hesitantly; he hadn’t really been on the floor since his accident, with the exception of being lowered hastily when a PCA had nearly dropped him. “It’d be nice to play with him, but if it’s too hard to get me back into my chair, I’ll just play with him on the bed or something. Aidan just likes him being on the floor because it’s easier for him to push around on his hands there. The bed is too soft and springy.”

With a quick glance at Patrick via the rearview mirror, Luke smiled. “Whatever’s better for you,” he said. “You deserve as much time to play with your kid as anyone else. I know that a lot of people—Aidan’s parents—“ he muttered with a barely concealing cough, “expect you to settle for less because you’re mod-quad or whatever, but fuck ‘em. Your kid has a right to lots of time with both dads.”

In the backseat, Patrick babbled quietly to himself, a habit he had taken up in the past week, and moved his arms around a little.

“Yeah, buddy?” Dean asked indulgently, grinning as he turned his head. He and Luke had put Patrick behind the driver’s seat so that Dean could see him from the passenger seat, and he was glad to see his son look over at him. “Are you getting tired of sitting still? We’ll be at the track in ten minutes and then you can get out of that silly car seat and play with Uncle Luke.” He tried to move his left hand to reach out and touch Patrick’s tiny hands, but the angle was impossible for his stiff arms to maneuver.

“You’ll get to watch your Daddy do his sprints,” Luke said cheerfully. “He’s the fastest on the team he practices with. I know,” he added when Patrick babbled again, “it’s very cool to have a Daddy so good at sport.”

Smiling contently, Dean leaned back and let the seat support his head. “You sure you’ll be good with him for my practice and the kids’ one?” he asked, probably for the fifth time.

“Dean, we’ll be fine. If I need to help you, he’ll go in the car seat for a bit and all, but most of the time he’ll sit on my lap or sleep,” Luke assured the blond, now used to this sort of anxiety, that he was pretty sure was common in first-time parents. “Paddy, you and I will be great, won’t we?”

“I’ll shut up about it,” Dean promised, and he looked out the window for the rest of the ride, only resuming chatter with Patrick once they were out of the car and headed into the track. “You look so cute in your little coat, buddy,” he commented, wheeling forward with gloved hands as Luke carried Paddy in his car seat. “And you’re going to look even cuter in all the clothes I bet your Maimeó got you for Christmas. You’ve got your first Christmas in two weeks! Are you excited?”

Luke held open the door to the track facility to let Dean in. “I’m kind of annoyed you’re going to Aidan’s parents’ place for Christmas,” he commented teasingly, putting Patrick down on the bleachers. “I wanted an excuse to leave my family after a couple hours, but you’ll be in Ireland and I’ll be stuck with my mum asking when I’m getting married.” When Dean was next to Patrick’s car seat, he went and unlocked a storage closet and pulled out the New Zealander’s red racing chair, bringing it over and setting it next to the other man’s chair. “Need help with your clothes?” he asked.

“Definitely with the track pants,” Dean answered, working slowly at the zipper of his coat. “Can you help me pull the sleeves off?” he asked, realizing that he was too stiff to do so that day. Once Luke had helped him with his coat, they moved on and pulled his warm track pants off so that he was in shorts, socks, and a t-shirt. “Paddy, bud, be good for Uncle Luke, okay?” he said, supporting his upper body with one hand so that he could lean down and kiss his son’s forehead. “Let’s go,” he told the Welshman once he sat up straight, and relaxed as much as possible so that Luke could put him into his racing chair. He let his chest fall to his thighs immediately, as sitting up would flip the chair over backwards, and used his arm to rearrange his feet on the attached footplate. “Gloves?” he requested, gratefully accepting Luke’s help with getting the rubber-covered mitts on. “Thanks, man.”

Luke nodded. “Go set a world record or whatever,” he said with a grin, watching as Dean wheeled off toward his coach before sitting down and unbuckling Patrick to pull him from his car seat and put him in his lap. “Do you want to watch Daddy?” he asked, smiling when the infant in his lap squirmed and reached forward. “Let’s get your blankie out of the nappy bag so you can snuggle it while we watch, okay? Maybe that will keep you happy when it gets louder in here.”

When his blanket appeared in front of him, Patrick clutched it tightly and brought it toward his face, rubbing the soft material against his skin happily, if uncoordinatedly. Luke leaned him back so that his tiny head rested on the brunet’s stomach, and kept an arm around him as the other supported his relaxed position on the bleachers. After a couple minutes, he sighed.

“Little man, we’re moving to a real chair,” he announced, getting Patrick more stable in his arms before standing up and moving a few yards to a seat near Dean’s coach. The team was already moving around the track doing their warm-up drills, so the coach turned in his wheelchair to smile down at the baby he had heard so much about.

“You must be Patrick,” he said, voice raising in pitch as everyone’s did around children so young. “I’ve heard a lot about you from your Daddy and Luke! It’s so good to meet you!”

Patrick looked over toward the voice, his lower lip trembling a little.

The coach laughed softly. “I know, I’m a scary man you’ve never seen before. How about we just watch your Daddy? He’s one of my fastest racers.” He looked over at Luke. “Do you like caring for Patrick as well?”

“It’s a good change of pace,” the Welshman replied, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Paddy’s a lot lighter than Dean is, and I only take care of him when Dean’s at practice. The rest of the time, if he cries, I give him back to his parents. That’s the best kind of baby,” he added. “Someone else’s.”

With a laugh, the coach nodded and, after tickling Patrick’s cheek gently, wheeled out to talk to his athletes as they finished their warm-up and gathered for instructions for practice.

By the time Dean got home after coaching his children’s team from four to six, he was exhausted. “Aid,” he groaned, knowing his husband was home after seeing the van in the parking garage, “please take our child so I can shower.”

Aidan came out of the kitchen, smiling widely as he picked Patrick up out of the car seat in Luke’s hand. “Hey, bug,” he said cheerfully, giving his son a kiss on his chubby cheek. “Did you have fun at the track with Daddy and Uncle Luke?” He looked up at Luke and said, in an adult tone, “Was he okay?”

“He cried after a while, but calmed down when Dean held him and fed him between practices,” Luke answered, putting the car seat down. “We’ll be out in twenty minutes or so,” he added, seeing Dean wheeling into the bedroom, clearly making a beeline for the shower.

The younger man smiled, cradling Patrick in one arm as he wheeled back toward the kitchen. “Dinner should be ready in half an hour,” he called out, though he wasn’t sure if the other men heard him, because the shower started running a moment later, so they were already in the bathroom.

“I was hoping for a good day with the kids,” Dean muttered as he moved his arms to make it easier for Luke to get his shirt off. “But no, the first day Paddy comes to practice they are a complete shit show.”

Luke snorted, putting Dean’s shirt on the counter and starting to work on his pants. “I’ve never heard them all so whiny,” he admitted, getting the sweats off along with his shorts and boxers. “It’s probably because it’s only a week ‘til their Christmas break,” he offered as an explanation. “You good for a minute?” he asked, grabbing the other man’s clothes when he nodded, taking them into the bedroom to toss in the laundry basket before changing into his swim trunks so that he could get in the shower to help Dean.

He went back into the bathroom and stuck his hand into the shower. “Water’s warm,” he announced, turning to Dean. “Ready?”

“Yup,” Dean answered, looping an arm around Luke’s neck for the Welshman to lift him to couple feet to his shower seat.

In the kitchen, Aidan hummed quietly to Patrick as he leaned against the refrigerator, his brakes on so that the pressure didn’t make him roll away and tip back. “Well, bug, you might have had an exciting day with Daddy, but Da here had a pretty boring day,” he informed his son, letting the little boy tug at his hair. “I had to do accounts and break-evens for a company that’s not very good at book-keeping, and it took forever. This, Paddy, is why you need to save your receipts if you ever have a business,” he told the babbling boy seriously. “Or at least write all your purchases down somewhere.”

He flicked on the oven light, glancing at the chicken cooking inside. “Looks like we’re going to have a good meal tonight, sweetie,” he said cheerfully. “Well, you’ll have formula, but Daddy and I are going to have chicken and broccoli.” He lifted Patrick up a little higher, smiling widely. “Who’s my little bug? Are you my bug? Are you?” he asked, kissing his son’s chubby cheeks happily, his stubble tickling Paddy’s little face.

After a few minutes of snuggling and a happy one-sided conversation in the kitchen, Dean and Luke came back out, both fully dressed with wet hair dripping on their shirts. “There’s Daddy!” Aidan exclaimed, turning Patrick around so that he could see Dean, who approached, smiling, in his power chair.

Glad to have time to really spend with Patrick, since the past five hours had been spent in his racing chair and with the kids’ team rather than with his son, Dean pulled the infant in close to his chest. “How’s my favorite little guy?” he asked softly, smiling as Patrick babbled against his chest.

Luke moved past Dean, looking at the food Aidan had on the counter. “Need help with anything?” he asked; he had finished his day and was about to clock out to head home, but he wanted to be sure he wasn’t needed for the rest of the night. When the other men shook his head, he bade his goodbyes and left, sending a flirty text to a guy before getting in his car to drive to his own flat.

“Aidan,” Dean said, back in the kitchen, his head supported by his husband’s muscular shoulder. “I’m pretty sore…” He grinned, sending a sneaky glance up to the younger man. “Maybe you could, uh, give me a massage tonight?”

“Sure,” Aidan replied, half-listening as he pulled the chicken from the over and shook the baking sheet so that the meat fell onto the plate with the broccoli, and he dumped the hot sheet into the sink. “After dinner, yeah? Before Paddy and I do floor time?”

Dean snorted. “Way to get the hint,” he whispered to himself, rolling his eyes at Patrick as though they were sharing a joke. “Maybe after,” he answered Aidan in a louder voice, figuring he’d get the younger man to understand what he meant.

“Think Paddy’ll go down for a quick nap while we eat?” Aidan asked, putting the plate of chicken and broccoli on his lap to take it to the table.

“I can hold him,” Dean said, shifting Patrick into his left arm, making sure he was secure before using his joystick to steer to the table. “He isn’t too squirmy tonight, for once. He’ll perk up for floor time with Da, I bet,” he added, making a little face down at his son.

While Aidan finished his dinner relatively quickly, Dean was slower, thanks to exhaustion, his limited arm movement, and the baby in one arm. He finished after about twenty minutes, though, and was happy to wipe down the table while Aidan rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. “Floor time!” the younger man crowed once they were cleaned up, sliding out of his wheelchair and pushing himself across the floor to sit in front of Dean’s chair and take Patrick from him. “Okay, bug, let’s play!” He looked up at his husband. “Can you get some of his toys?” he asked, lying on his back and setting Patrick on his chest as the older man rolled away, the hum of his power chair not bothering the little boy, as he had heard it every day of his life.

After bringing out a few stuffed, colorful toys—including a few that made somewhat annoying jingling noises when shook—Dean leaned back in his chair tiredly, his shoulders hurting a little from his long practice and coaching. He sort of wished that he had gotten a chair that had the tilting back function, because switching where the pressure was would probably be good for him. As he listened to Patrick babble and Aidan patter back sweetly, he let his eyes slip shut and his head loll to the side on the headrest.

When Aidan looked up from playing with Patrick twenty minutes later, he noticed Dean asleep in his wheelchair. “Aww, looks like Daddy got really tired today,” he whispered to their son, smiling. “Let’s wake him up so he can sleep in bed like he’s supposed to.” He put Patrick down on the floor along with his stuffed lemur and, keeping an eye on the little boy, pulled himself up on one of Dean’s armrests to gently shake the Kiwi’s shoulder.

“What?” Dean mumbled, clearly a little confused as he woke up. “Shit, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he added once he figured out what had happened. “Sorry.”

Aidan snorted. “Babe, you’re exhausted. Don’t be sorry. Let’s just go to bed, yeah?” he said, picking Patrick up and giving him a kiss. “Let’s get you in bed so Daddy can go to sleep too.” He handed the infant to Dean so he could get back in his chair, and then plucked him from his exhausted husband’s lap. “All right, let’s go, boys,” he said cheerfully, rolling toward the bedroom and listening to Dean follow him. “Do you think you can stay awake for me to rub your shoulders, babe?” he asked as he put Patrick down on the bed to change him into his sleeper.

Dean rolled his eyes. “That is _not_ what I was asking you to rub earlier,” he muttered, reaching out to tickle Patrick’s belly before Aidan button his sleeper up that far.

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Aidan said, smirking a bit as a look of understanding crossed his features. “Well, we’ve been talking about letting Paddy trying sleeping in the nursery instead of in here, so we could start that tonight.” He finished buttoning their squirming son into his sleeper.

The older man raised his eyebrows. “I just fell asleep in my chair and you want to bang?” he asked, grinning a little when Aidan gave a shrug, barely concealing a grin on his stubbly face. “You do? Man, I’m lucky to have you,” he commented, leaning in and giving Aidan a kiss on his cheek. “Put him to bed, babe.”

“Please, please have a good first night in your own room, bug,” Aidan said softly as he took Patrick into the nursery. “I mean, obviously, you had your first night on the planet in that room, but I don’t think that really counts. The point is, bug, that I want some alone time with your Daddy and we’d like to start getting more sleep.”

Patrick was already looking tired, his eyes closing as Aidan gently rocked him before carefully putting him on his back in the crib. “Nighty-night, Paddy,” he whispered, grabbing the baby monitor walkie talkie set to bring it into the bedroom, and he closed the door behind him as he left.

Dean looked up when Aidan came into the bedroom again, pausing in the middle of working his t-shirt off. “This isn’t a sexy pose, but I think I’m stuck. Can you lend me a hand?” he asked with a small laugh, relaxing a little when his husband reached over and helped him get his shirt the rest of the way off. “Thank you,” he said, using his right hand to pull Aidan toward him by the shirt. “If I set a new world record at the IPC Athletics Grand Prix in a few months, will I get some of that hot gold medal sex I got in Rio?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“Oh yeah,” Aidan answered, nodding. “You’re going to get hot gold medal sex and a hell of a lot more. You’ll get world record blowjobs, a world record vibrator in your arse, a world record round with that glass dildo that I sort of claimed as mine but was a wedding present so I guess it’s supposed to be for both of us…”

With a smile, Dean kissed Aidan again. “I guess I’ll _have_ to break a record now,” he purred, running his hand down Aidan’s back when the younger man slid into his lap. “You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled, burying his face in the Irishman’s neck as he did so. “I really am lucky to have you.”

“Mm, or you were really good in a past life and karma is great,” Aidan suggested, putting his right arm around Dean’s shoulders for balance and using his left hand to rub over the older man’s chest, catching a little in the coarse blond hairs there. “Or,” he added, “you’re just an amazing, wonderful, beautiful man who deserves someone who makes him happy and likes congratulatory fucking him for all his sports achievements.” He pulled away from Dean to lick up the right side of the New Zealander’s chest, making sure he paid special attention to the sensitive nipple when his tongue reached it.

“Congratulatory fucking is a really good kind of fucking,” Dean said, breath catching a little when Aidan continued to lave attention all over his nipple. “Do you want to fuck me in my chair? You always like that.”

Aidan shook his head. “Can’t lie, I want to throw you down on that bed and ride you within an inch of your life,” he growled, and then looked up with a grin. “Okay, I can’t really just throw you down, but I can get off your lap, help you transfer, and then ride you within an inch of your life,” he said teasingly. “Sound good?”

“Fuck yeah, it does,” Dean groaned, leaning back in his chair and letting Aidan crawl out of his lap and back into his own wheelchair. “How do you want to do this?” he asked looking over at the bed tiredly.

After a moment’s thought, Aidan looked back at Dean. “I’ll get your legs up and then help with your upper body?” he suggested, waiting for a nod from the older man before moving to grip his legs and lift them onto the bed.

The transfer did not go off without a hitch, but eventually Dean was on the bed, his head and shoulders propped up by pillows, and Aidan had hopped up beside him. “Come here,” the New Zealander muttered, smiling when the younger man pulled himself up the bed and sat a little below his hips. “You have a really attractive face,” he commented, slowly moving his stiff arm to rest his closed-up hand on the top of Aidan’s thigh.

“I think I read something about how attractive people tend to date other attractive people, so, uh…” Aidan paused. “Okay, I’m not sure how I was planning to end that sentence, but the point is that if I’m good-looking then you’re good-looking too.” He leaned down and kissed his husband deeply, using his left hand to rub and massage at the front of Dean’s pants.

Dean groaned softly, feeling a faint stirring somewhere below his chest. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where the feeling came from, and it wasn’t as strong of a feeling as the same action would have been were he able-bodied, but it was there. He rubbed his hand in the crease between Aidan’s thigh and groin, not feeling confident enough in his dexterity to move it further in. “Rub a little harder, babe,” he begged, breaking the kiss to get more stimulation.

Aidan shook his head. “I’m rubbing pretty damn hard already,” he informed his husband. “Any harder and I’m going to squish it.” He moved his hand away and instead began to press their hips together, trying to get the pressure hard enough for Dean without being uncomfortable for his own, more sensitive body. “Did you ever get one of those suction things from your doctor?” He stopped his movement for a moment. “Is there, like, a special sex doctor you see after an SCI?”

Dean snorted. “It’s not a specialty or anything. It’s a part of rehab, and, yeah, I have a suction pump for my dick, but you manage to get me hard without it,” he pointed out, pushing gently on the back on Aidan’s hips to get him to move again. “It’s faster with the pump, but not as, uh, intimate.”

“Okay, but sometime…” Aidan wiggled his eyebrows, and then leaned down to kiss the older man, using his right arm to support his weight. He liked the idea of being able to have sex with his husband quickly when they didn’t have a lot of time; it was great that they always took a while, kissing and grinding, but he wanted to be able to have a quickie. After a few minutes pressed against the Kiwi, he could feel the man underneath him was really hard. “God, I want you inside of me,” he moaned, moving off of Dean and yanking his clothes off before carefully pulling the older man’s jeans down and tossing them on the floor.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered, watching avidly as Aidan pulled a tube of lube out of the bedside table and began to open himself up. “Fuck,” he repeated, unable to think of more words as his husband rode his own fingers, preparing himself efficiently. He took a deep breath and let out a bit of a whine as Aidan grabbed his erection and sank down on top of him. “Oh my fucking God.”

Aidan cried out, stopping himself from being loud at the last minute, not wanting to wake their son and cut things short. “Yeah,” he agreed, also a little too turned on to form complete sentences. “You feel really, really good,” he gasped as he leaned forward just right and grabbed the headboard to start moving himself up and down at a pace fast enough for Dean to get off on. They didn’t have gentle sex, because the older man would lose his erection without constant stimulation, but he didn’t mind. Who could mind consistently having absurdly hot sex? “God,” he groaned, biting his lip as he clenched his internal muscles and watched Dean’s eyelids flutter in pleasure.

With a gasp, Dean arched his neck and let his eyes close completely, his fingernails digging into his own palm. “You’re amazing,” he grunted, dragging his hand down Aidan’s back, knuckles bumping over the younger man’s vertebrae as he did so. “And beautiful,” he added breathlessly, forcing his eyes open to look at the brunet’s slack face, shiny with sweat, brow creased with concentration, as he bounced up and down on him.

Aidan keened softly as he took his hand off the headboard and wrapped it around his erection, starting to stroke himself roughly. Within a couple of minutes, he felt his balls drawing up and he groaned as he looked down at his husband. “You feeling close, babe?” he asked, chest heaving.

Feeling a bit guilty about it, Dean grimaced and shook his head. “Not so much,” he admitted. “Sorry, Aid, I’m just not…” He groaned, partly in pleasure but partly in frustration. He wanted to get off with Aidan, not wanting hold the other man back but also not wanting to lag behind.

“It’s okay,” Aidan soothed, not pausing or slowing his movements. “I can do you after.” He chewed at his lip, jerking himself a little harder and rocking his hips more quickly before coming with a cry over Dean’s chest, his back arching and his mouth falling open. “Dean,” he groaned as he stroked himself through it, nearly falling on top of the other man before catching himself on his arm.

Dean sighed happily as he watch Aidan’s face relax. “You are fucking perfect,” he whispered, smiling as the younger man toppled off of him and onto the bed, panting wildly. He turned his head just to look, loving the way his husband came down from the high of orgasm.

Once he got his wits about him once more, Aidan leaned over, throwing a stump over the blond man’s leg and running a hand down his chest. “What do you want?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss behind Dean’s ear. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he purred. With a grin, he leaned over and yanked the drawer open, pulling out a small bullet vibrator. “Hm?” he added, kissing over his husband’s chest.

“I could try it,” Dean answered with a smile. “But, uh, please don’t lose that up my ass. I don’t think I could handle going to A and E for that. I’m not going to be _that_ guy that all the doctors talk about. Man, I’d be the talk of the hospital, because how often do you see a quadriplegic guy with a vibrator stuck in his—oh!”

Aidan, rolling his eyes at Dean’s little spiel, had turned the vibrator on and pressed it against his husband’s erection. “This is what the bullet’s for,” he explained as Dean gasped loudly, shuddering a little. “Well, I mean, this and clits,” he added, rolling closer to the blond to kiss at his neck. “But, uh, this. Yeah,” he mumbled, a little distracted by the way the older man panted and moaned next to him.

“God,” Dean groaned, turning his head to the side to give Aidan better access to his neck. “Okay, yeah, this was a good idea,” he whispered, licking his lips a little as he started to lose himself in the pleasure. “I’m getting… getting close,” he ground out, arching his neck and moaning quietly. “Fuck, babe, fuck…” He cried out a little louder than he meant to as he came, semen dribbling out of his cock and over Aidan’s hand and the vibrator. It felt different than it had when he was able-bodied but still so _fucking_ good.

“Yeah, Dean,” the younger man whispered, still kissing over the more sensitive parts of his husband’s neck. After Dean’s cock stopped spurting fluid, he pulled the vibrator away and turned it off. “Mm, that was nice,” he said, wiping his hand on the sheet. After a few moments, he sat up slowly. “Want to go to the bathroom and get ready for bed?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah,” he answered still smiling with sated content. “You’re the best,” he added cheerfully when the younger man slid into his wheelchair to help Dean do the same.

“I love the hell out of you,” Aidan replied, kissing Dean’s thigh before helping him transfer.

“Love you too, Aid.”


	36. Home alone with a baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey cool kids! I hope everyone is having a good week. I want to give a heads up and explanation in this chapter. This mentions bodily fluids (urine, in basically zero detail), and I realized both my stories probably mention bodily fluids more than the average story by a fair amount. Bodily functions are a fact of life, obviously, and often a more complicated fact of life in disabled bodies. To me, that's a huge part of disabled life, the stuff that nobody talks about but is there. It's not things like not going up stairs that are frustrating for me, but things like how long it takes to put on pants, trying to calculate how much liquid intake I've had to guess if I have to pee... that's my life. This story aims to have some realism about disabled life, the good and the annoying, and bodily fluids are part of that. 
> 
> Sorry for the long explanation, I just realized people might find it weird. It's just a part of paralyzed life.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said cheerfully, pulling his son out of his crib as he babbled quietly to himself, clapping his hands together. “It’s nice to see you so happy this morning. Sometimes you wake me up by crying. I don’t like it when my poor little guy is so upset he’s crying. This is a lot better.” He kissed Patrick’s soft black hair and settled him in his lap, sitting up with his head against Dean’s chest and the New Zealander’s arm across his front to hold him. “Let’s go get some breakfast and then Daddy’s got to work. You can play with your toys in that playpen for a while. You like that, don’t you?”

Patrick patted his hands over Dean’s larger one, babbling loudly at various pitches to himself as his father steered his power chair into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Paddy!” Luke said with a big smile, turning away from the newspaper he was reading to greet the four-month-old. “Well, look who’s happy this morning. Are you going to have lots of fun while boring old Daddy does work on his computer?”

Dean smiled. “I’m betting you’re going to have a lot more fun than Daddy,” he admitted, moving around the kitchen to get Patrick a bottle of formula. “See, Daddy is a grown-up, so he has to work to get money for things like food and rent and paying Uncle Luke.”

“Uncle Luke does like getting paid,” Luke agreed, standing up and rinsing out the cup he had used for orange juice. “When do you want me to come back after we finish up the morning routine?” he asked, switching from the higher-pitched voice he used to talk to babies down to his regular octave as he talked to Dean.

The Kiwi thought for a moment, a little distracted by the way Patrick squirmed on his lap. “I think 3:30 or so? I’m not coaching today, so I’m doing the 4:30 training session.”

“3:30?” Luke repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, that makes sense for changing or whatever, but, mate, that’s seven and a half hours. Are you just not going to pee for seven and a half hours?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, sighing. “I want to give you the whole day off, and it’d be kind of weird for you to come back for just five minutes in the middle of the day so I can pee.” He moved over to the table before putting the nipple of the bottle at Patrick’s mouth so that his son could eat. “Okay, I’m not exactly happy about the words that are about to come out of my mouth, but I could use the…” He finished the sentence with words so mumbled that his PCA couldn’t understand them.

Luke waited for a moment, assuming Dean would repeat himself, but when that didn’t happen, he prompted, “What?”

Dean sighed. “Condom catheter,” he articulated clearly, only a trace of a blush on his cheeks. “You know, the thing you put on your dick and then there’s a bag and a tube and urine…”

“You’d prefer that to me coming back?” Luke asked, trying to keep his voice free from any judgment. Regardless of how strange he thought that decision would be, it wasn’t his to make, and he assumed it was an independence thing, which Dean did not like being questioned about.

“Yeah,” Dean said, shrugging. “I know, it’s a weird choice, but it means I can stay home alone for almost eight hours, which is kind of nice.”

Luke waved a hand to communicate his entire lack of judgment. “Hey, your body is your business,” he said. “I’ll help you get the thing on and come back at four. If,” he added with a sharp look over at the blond, “you promise to call if you need anything. As far as I know, you’ve never done that since I started working with you, which was over two years ago, so… seriously, you get uncomfortable, just call. I’m going to the supermarket and then home, so lots of free time.”

“I get it, I get it,” Dean said, rolling his eyes as how long Luke took to reassure him of this. “Geez, you’re like all those boys I dated back when I was a slut in college. I’ll call you, baby, I promise.”

The Welshman snorted. “Does Aidan know about how big of a slut you apparently were?” he asked, smiling, and then grimaced. “I know kids don’t start talking until they’re one or so, but now every time I talk like this in front of him I’m scared I’m going to make his first word ‘slut’ or something.”

“Yeah, Aidan’s parents might not approve of that,” Dean agreed, smiling. “But you won’t know real words for a while, will you?” he added to Patrick as the boy finished his bottle and began to push it away. “Okay, all done. Let’s get you burped and then we’ll let Uncle Luke finish up with Daddy and you’ll have playtime.”

Once burped, Patrick sat lay in his bassinet, shaking a noisy plush toy, as Luke got Dean on the bed and took off his pants. “I’ve never actually seen one of these,” the brunet commented, opening the sterile packaging of the condom portion and rolling it down the other man’s penis. It was strange to perform that action on a flaccid dick, but he did it with the same clinical detachment he used when helping the New Zealander wash, including their mutual, unspoken decision not to notice the way Dean’s penis responded to the stimulation. He connected the little tube at the top to the longer tube that led into the collection bag, which he carefully strapped to Dean’s leg before helping him get his pants and underwear back up. “That’s a million times easier than a regular cath.”

“Plus, nothing up the dick,” Dean pointed out, carefully moving his upper body to do his part of the transfer back into his power chair. “Let me tell you, tubes in the dick are not cool. I know it’s a thing for some people, but, man, I do _not_ like it, and I don’t even have all my feeling down there.”

Rolling his eyes a little, Luke shook his head. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll keep that in mind if my new boyfriend ever pulls out a bunch of urethral sounds and winks at me.”

Dean shuddered theatrically with as much of his body as he could. “Hey, man, whatever floats your boat, but don’t go in unprepared. Conversely, if this new guy likes vibrators, let me tell you…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Luke threatened. “I don’t want to know. If I wanted to know, I would’ve asked.”

“You should get certified to be a sex PCA,” Dean teased, grinning widely. That job was a real thing—well, sort of, it was probably better described as a sex therapist—but he couldn’t imagine Luke as one. “Come into the bedroom, help me get it on. I’ll have you know, I’m really hot, and my husband…”

“Oh, look, you got the cath on, guess I’ll be leaving,” Luke said, slapping Dean’s shoulder to make him stop. He paused. “Okay, yeah, but if my boyfriend ever _does_ pull out sounds, I’ll tell you. I feel like it’s a good gossip topic.”

Dean burst out laughing, and put Patrick back in his lap before seeing Luke to the door. “See you at 3:30!” he said cheerfully, helping Patrick to wave his tiny hand while the Welshman left. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, rolling them into the living room where he had a used crib set up as a reachable playpen and his laptop on the table. “Daddy’s going to do work for an hour, and you get to nap or play with your toys. You aren’t getting loud ones, though,” he added, shaking his head. “After an hour, we can have story time. Your Maimeó bought you a picture book about Korea for Christmas, and we’re going to learn about where your biological family came from. After that, it’s back to work for Daddy and nap or play for Paddy, and then we’ll read a special book about New Zealand. We’ll leave it up to Da to teach you about Ireland.” He knew perfectly well that his son wasn’t going to really understand or remember anything from picture books at four months old, but he still wanted to get the boy interested in learning.

He pulled the noisy toys out of the makeshift playpen and set them on the floor so that he could work without high-pitched squeaking or continuous rattling, and he left the quiet ones in when he put Patrick in there on his stomach, setting a little timer on his phone so that he would know when to stop working and play, and another one remind himself to check if his son was asleep and put him on his back if he was. “You have fun while Daddy works, okay?”

Patrick didn’t fall asleep in the allotted hour of work and play time, so Dean decided he would rock him with a warm bottle after so he didn’t end up with a cranky, nap-less child later on. “Okay, let’s have a break. Give me one second to get some coffee, because you have one tired Daddy right now, and then we can read your special book from Maimeó,” he told his son, leaving him in the crib for just enough time to microwave some leftover coffee from earlier that morning. “Okay, Paddy-Pads, let’s get you nice and comfortable to read our story.” He pulled his son into his lap and opened the book, leaving his coffee on the table to drink once he had gotten Patrick to sleep.

The day passed nicely for Dean; he wasn’t used to having that much time without a PCA or family member around, and it felt like a good break to have time to himself. Well, sort of to himself, as Patrick was there with him. He felt nice and relaxed, thanks to the rare freedom of true alone time, when Luke came back at twenty minutes past three.

“So, guess who has a date tonight?” the Welshman said by way of greeting, finding Dean and Patrick in the living room, playing quietly with a couple of Patrick’s toys.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say you,” Dean answered with a grin. “Did you call your boyfriend while you were out?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah, he’s coming for a late dinner and I _think_ he’s planning to spend the night.” He grinned. “I can finally get laid.”

With a laugh, Dean shook his head. “People talk about marriage leading to less sex, but I get it on a way more frequent basis than you, Evans.” He looked at the other man fondly, though. “I’ll try to leave practice right on time, and we can do a quick shower and get me in my pajamas before dinner. You can get out early to go put on clean boxers and change your sheets or something.” He smirked, feeling like Regina George’s mom from _Mean Girls_. “Need anything? Condoms? Lube?”

“Fuck off,” Luke muttered, rolling his eyes. “You need to change your clothes now if you want to be on time for practice.” It would take a while for them to get Dean into his workout clothes with along with warm layers to combat the January cold, and then for him to get out of the extra layers and into his racing chair at the track. “Patrick, let’s relocate your playtime into Daddy and Da’s bedroom so we can get your Daddy ready for his practice. He’s only got two more months before the Grand Prix in Berlin, so he’s got to work hard!”

Dean smiled. “Paddy, we’re going to get you a passport so you can come to see the Grand Prix. I bet that’s going to be really fun,” he told his son as he moved slowly to pull some clothes out of the drawer as Luke set the little boy down in his bassinet. They each kept an eye on him, though, ever worried that he would soon be able to pull himself up and topple out. “Okay, I found clothes. Ready?” he asked Luke, looking over at the other man as he moved to sit parallel to the bed for a transfer.

“Can I take the cath bag off first? I’m worried I’ll accidentally pull out the tube or the stopper-tube thing and then your bed will be gross,” Luke said, making a face at the thought, and when Dean gave him permission, he detached the bag and took it into the bathroom to empty and rinse. When he came back, he found that Dean had managed to get his shirt off, making his job a little easier. “How was spending the day with Paddy?” he asked, working Dean’s jeans and underwear down his legs and put them to the side before pulling the tube of the catheter off and carefully rolling off the disposable condom itself, which he immediately dropped into the trash bin. “Are you okay to stay here naked for the next couple minutes while I wash my hands and this tube?” he asked.

“Of course,” Dean answered immediately. “I’m not going to keep you from washing your hands after touching my dick and my urine.” He shifted his shoulder on the bed as he waited for Luke to wash everything up. It was a little surprising, though, when he heard the door open and the telltale sound of Aidan’s messed-up left caster on the carpet by the door.

“I got off work early!” Aidan said excitedly as he came into the bedroom, and then paused. “Not that I don’t love you naked, but why?”

Luke poked his head out from the bathroom. “I had to wash my hands,” he explained. “Hey, Aid. How was work?”

“Pretty good,” Aidan answered, rolling forward to pick up Patrick and give him a kiss. “Any day where I get off early to come see my family is good, though,” he added. “I’ll be able to watch Paddy while you guys go to practice, so that should make your day easier.” He leaned over, still holding his son, and gave Dean a quick peck on the lips.

“Good thing, too,” Dean replied, grinning. “Luke’s got a hot date,” he added in a stage whisper, looking up innocently when the Welshman came out of the bathroom. “What? It’s true. The guy’s going to stay the night.”

Luke groaned. “Great, now you’ll _both_ be asking about it tomorrow,” he complained in a good-natured tone, helping Dean as he started to get dressed. “I’m not giving you freaks a play-by-play in the morning. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Aidan raised an eyebrow as he took off his tie, letting Patrick play with it a little but taking it away before he could put it in his mouth. “We’ll see about that,” he said, looking over at the bed. “Can you guys keep an eye on Paddy? I need the loo.”

With a happy smile, Dean took their son into his arms; Luke had to do all the work on his pants and underwear anyway, so he might as well hold Patrick. “I love you,” he reminded the little boy, blowing a raspberry on his chubby cheek to make him smile. “That fun?”

After a minute or two, Aidan came back out of the bathroom, plucking Patrick out of Dean’s arms so that his husband could get a shirt on. “Cath?” he asked, looking over at the blond on the bed.

Dean nodded. “I gave Luke most of the day off,” he explained. “It’s the condom, not the intermittent or anything.” He smiled at his husband. “I did that whole thing where I stayed at home alone with my kid thing that other people do.” He was proud of himself and more than a little excited; he sometimes got frustrated by how little true alone time he got with Patrick.

“Sounds fun,” Aidan said with a grin; Dean’s happiness was contagious and easily added to his preexisting joy from leaving work early. “Have a good practice today,” he added as Dean and Luke finished getting the New Zealander dressed. “We’ll see you after.” He held Patrick’s hand to help him wave, and then sighed happily once the door shut behind the other two men. “Okay, bug, Da needs to change but then we can cuddle up for a while.” He put Patrick in his bassinet so that he could get out of his suit and into a long-sleeve t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts. “Did you have fun staying home with just Daddy today? I know Daddy really liked it. When you get older, it’ll pretty special to have that time with him alone,” he explained as he hung up his suit and pulled on his clean clothes for home. “Let’s go play on the floor a bit, bug, and then we’ll make dinner for Daddy. Uncle Luke has a bit date with his boyfriend tonight, so we don’t want to keep him here too late. Maybe,” he suggested, smiling, “we could have dinner staying warm in the over after Daddy showers, and we’ll help him get his pajamas on so Uncle Luke can leave early and maybe start his date early.”

He put Patrick on his lap, smiling as his son grabbed his shirt tightly. “You look like you took a good nap today,” he said, seeing the little boy’s cheerful, alert expression. “Well, probably a few naps, because I know Daddy likes to keep you well-rested.” He kept an arm around Patrick as he moved them to the living room, setting them up on the floor. He propped his son up against some pillows so that he could sit comfortably, and pulled out teddy bear. “Here we go, bug! Want to play with your bear?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't know the right term for what Dean jokes about as a sex PCA, but for disabled people who have a lot of difficulty having sex, there are people who help, as their job (not as participants, just moving around and stuff). It's a legit thing and really awesome that the job exists for people who need that help. Dean is teasing not as a "haha that job exists" but as a "haha my PCA would be so embarrassed and terrible as a sexytimes PCA"


	37. Grand Prix pt One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO as usual you get to hear about my life. I had a trial for my baclofen pump, and it went well, so hopefully I'll have that surgery within the month. Yay!
> 
> FYI, the stroller that attaches to the wheelchair is a real thing--sort of. It's been designed but not produced. You can see it [here](http://wehavetoastonishthem.tumblr.com/post/99017732630/jihoa-cursum-baby-stroller-by-sjoblom)

“Do we have everything?” Aidan asked, looking at the bags they had by the front door of their flat. “Okay, clothes, nappies, formula, medications, Paddy’s blanket and toys, your chair’s charger, pram, toiletries, all your racing stuff, a New Zealand flag…” He glanced over at Luke, who was leaning against the wall, holding Patrick and playing with him. “Do you have everything? Passport?”

The Welshman laughed. “Yes, Aidan. Stop worrying. Dean’s about to compete in the Grand Prix and you’re the one freaking out.” He shifted Patrick into one hand and checked his watch. “Come on, we should go to the airport. Security’s going to take forever.”

Forever, as it turned out, seemed like a pretty apt descriptor of how long they spent going through security. Between foreign passports, a six-month-old baby, and the two wheelchairs—especially Dean’s power chair—they were held up a long time by the officers who searched them, patted down their wheelchairs, and sent one of their bags through the x-ray machine twice before searching manually. By the time they got to their gate, all three men were exhausted, and Patrick was getting a little fussy.

“Give me two seconds, bug, and we’ll get you out of your pram,” Aidan promised distractedly, putting his bag on the ground before leaning forward to pluck his son out of the stroller attached to the front of his chair. “Yeah, let’s get all this fussing out before we get on the plane. Nobody likes a crying baby on the plane, including the crying baby. Wouldn’t you be happy if you could sleep all the way to Germany?” He jiggled Patrick a little in his arms, trying to get him to calm down. “Can one of you get his blanket?” he asked, looking over at Dean and Luke.

After a wordless exchange with Dean, Luke crouched down and opened one of the carryon bags, pulling out the soft blanket that Richard had given the family at the baby shower, which he handed over to Patrick immediately. “Better?” he asked, seeing the way the little boy calmed down quickly once he could rub it on his face. “Okay, there we go.” He looked around, trying to find a place to sit. “Can we move over there?” he asked, pointing to an open seat at the end of a row. The other men followed as he made his way over, and once he sat he turned toward Dean. “Is a lot of your team going to be there?”

“I don’t know about everyone, but I know Jed and Manu will be,” Dean answered, leaning onto his left arm to smile at Patrick as he spoke. “Manu’s doing the 100 meters and the 200 meters, I think, and Jed’s doing both shot and javelin.”

“See? That’s what normal people do,” Aidan teased. “A couple events, not six different distances.” He bounced Patrick a little on his lap, looking a bit lost when the boy continued to cry a little.

Dean pushed himself up into a straighter position. “Pass him over here, Aid,” he suggested, holding their son close with his stiff left arm once he was in his lap. “How about you help Daddy go buy a pack of raisins?” he said cheerfully, carefully moving the tips of Patrick’s small fingers to ‘help’ him push the joystick of his power chair as he slowly steered over toward one of the stores near their gate.

“That is really cute,” Luke commented, watching as Dean talked happily to his son while they moved. “Are you planning to take Paddy out around the city while Dean trains with his team before competing?”

Aidan answered, “Yeah. I mostly just want to take him out so that he isn’t cooped up inside all day. It’s still pretty cold out, though. Weather doesn’t matter for an indoor track and field thing, but it matters for taking a kid outside.” He gave a wry grin. “Honestly, I don’t think I could do a whole day inside a hotel room with him. He doesn’t have all his toys, so he’s going to be bored and fussy.”

“If he’s being a handful, you might be able to bring him to the training facility so I can help you out. He likes watch Dean on the track,” Luke said, smiling. “It’s really cute. Maybe it’s the movement, or the noise of the tires on the track, but he claps sometimes during practices.”

“My kid might be the cutest kid in the world,” Aidan commented in response to that. “I didn’t show Dean, but my ma made him a little sleeper that has the New Zealand flag on it. We’ll put him in that for Dean’s first day of competition.” He smiled, looking over at Luke. They saw each other almost every single day, and were friends, though he was, of course, not as close to the Welshman as Dean was. He genuinely liked Luke, and was glad that the man was basically an uncle to his young son. “I assume you’ll be supporting New Zealand as well?”

Luke nodded. “For Dean and his closer Kiwi friends, yeah, but I know a fair amount of the Brits through Dean, so I might go for some of team GB,” he explained. “It doesn’t much matter for men’s wheelchair racing, though. Dean’s in practically every distance.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of great at everything,” Aidan said with a dreamy smile. “I know Tatyana—from the American team—is trying to get him to try marathons. He’s done every distance that’s on the track, which is up to 10k… if he trained for it, he could kick ass in a marathon against other T-52s.” He pushed himself up and shifted positions. “On the other hand, if he trains for marathons, I’d see him less often, and that would be sad.”

Before he could answer, Luke was distracted by the sight of Dean coming back, Patrick still in his lap with his little hand pressing against the joystick of his older father’s chair. “Fucking adorable,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and taking a picture. “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying in the same room as you guys?” he asked Aidan after a moment. “I don’t mind finding a room of my own, really, and I feel like I’m… intruding.”

Aidan shook his head. “Dean’s going to be up early every day and so physically overworked that live-in care makes sense. It’s not like we’d be having sex or anything, and you won’t be in our bed. I don’t mind, and Dean sounds like he’d prefer it.” He gave a little wave to Dean as the New Zealander drew close with their giggling son. “We should take a picture before we have to board,” he said once the older man was within earshot.

“I can—“ Luke began.

“You should be in the photo, Luke,” Aidan interrupted. “We’ve got a few family photos of me, Dean, and Paddy, but not with you. Come on,” he added, pulling out his phone as the Welshman smiled at the thought of it. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he added, leaning over toward a middle-aged woman sitting near him. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

The woman stood up, smiling widely. “Well, of course,” she said, taking the proffered phone and stepping back to the right distance as the small family, Luke included, posed with large smiles. “You are such an adorable little group. Who’s the father?” she asked as she handed Aidan’s phone back to him.

“Those two,” Luke said, gesturing toward Aidan and Dean. “I’m the uncle,” he added when she looked at him curiously.

With a big smile, the woman waved at Patrick and sat back down, turning back to her own husband as the small family once again focused back on each other.

“Luke?” Dean asked, handing Patrick over to his husband. “I should probably go pee before we head out,” he said, stretching his arm a little before putting it back on his armrest so that he could steer himself over to the bathrooms, his PCA walking beside him.

Aidan smiled at Patrick, lifting his son up a little to blow raspberries on his face. “Is that fun, bug? Is it?” he asked, blowing a final raspberry on the chubby cheek before setting the giggling boy down. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and saw that boarding would begin soon. “Let’s start calming down, Paddy, so that maybe Daddy can get you to sleep once we’re on the plane. Daddy calms you down better than Da,” he admitted, placing Patrick in his lap. “Maybe Da is a little too excitable, but Daddy knows just how to get you to sleep. I’ll warm a bottle up under my arm as soon as we get on the plane.”

Thanks to Dean’s easygoing nature, Patrick’s general calmness, and beautiful luck, the Turner-O’Gorman son managed to sleep almost the entire flight from London to Berlin, waking only to babble cheerfully in Luke’s arms, attempting to pull the Welshman’s stubble from his face with excited hands. By the time they were off the plane, though, he was getting unhappy and started to cry.

“Bug, please calm down,” Aidan begged as he strapped Patrick into his car seat and into the accessible taxi that they were using. “We’ll be at the hotel in half an hour and you can play with your toys and lie on your tummy or do whatever you want, but you’ve got to stay in your car seat for the ride, okay?”

Dean rolled up the ramp in the back of the car and let the driver strap his chair in. “Aid, I don’t think logic is going to help,” he said wearily. “I’m sorry,” he added to the driver over the cries of their son. “He’s tired.”

“It is okay,” the driver answer with an understanding smile. “We will soon be at your hotel, and he can sleep.” He made sure that everyone was properly settled into the car and drove them away from the airport and toward a suburb that housed both a few hotels and an indoor track facility. He didn’t mind the crying baby in the back; the parents, unlike some, were trying very hard to calm the child, and that was what counted.

By the time they were in their hotel room, all three men were utterly exhausted. They only had an hour’s time difference, but it somehow felt as though it were much more. “Paddy, please,” Aidan whispered, rocking the inconsolable boy in his arms. “Bug, we’ve fed you, given you your special blankie, given you your favorite toys, and I don’t know what you want.”

“Aid,” Dean said softly, pulling up beside his husband. “Take a shower or something. You look like you’re at the end of your rope,” he added, taking Patrick and holding him close to his own chest. “Go on,” he said when Aidan looked hesitant. “Luke and I will try to get him to down for the night.” As his husband rolled off into the bathroom, pausing only to grab toiletries from a suitcase, Dean looked down at his squalling son. “Here’s the thing, buddy,” he said wearily. “Daddy, Da, _and_ Uncle Luke are all tired, and we know you’re tired too. Daddy has to get up really early to go to the track and train with all his New Zealand friends—you’re going to meet them soon!—and so we should all go to bed soon.” He groaned quietly when Patrick’s sobs didn’t lessen. “Paddy, my beautiful little guy, I need you to sleep,” he muttered, rocking his son as well as he could with his limited upper body movement.

Luke moved bags around, pulling out his pajamas and setting up the crib provided by the hotel. “Let me know if you need me to take him,” he offered; sometimes being carried by someone walking around calmed Patrick a little, though sometimes being in the arms of anyone but his fathers just made things worse.

“Could you warm up a bottle?” Dean asked, looking at the small microwave that sat atop the minifridge in their room. “Maybe a warm bottle will get you to sleep,” he told Patrick hopefully, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. “Buddy, please, please calm down,” he said desperately, watching as his son’s hands moved around angrily even as they clutched his beloved blanket. “Fine,” he muttered. “Can you learn to talk right fucking now and tell me what’s wrong?”

Patrick continued to sob, his entire body shaking with it.

Across the room, Luke pulled a bottle and some formula from their bags and mixed it up before sticking it in the microwave. ”At least we’ve only got an hour of time difference,” he commented as the appliance lit up and hummed quietly. “I can’t imagine him doing well with much more than that.”

“Paddy, buddy, look at you!” Dean said, his tone one of a frantic, false cheeriness as he held up a plush toy with a mirrored surface. “If you stop crying, you’ll see how cute your little face is!” He shook the toy a little, trying to get his son’s attention, but the little boy seemed hell-bent on continuing to cry.

The microwave beeped, and Luke pulled out the bottle and stirred it up to make sure the temperature was even. “Here,” he said, handing the warm bottle to Dean and watching as the Kiwi prodding Patrick into accepting the nipple and started to drink.

“Oh, thank God,” Dean sighed, feeling immense relief at a moment of silence instead of tears. “I really hope he goes to sleep after this.” He looked over at the two queen beds on the other side of the room, separated from the small kitchen and sitting area (where the crib was set up in lieu of a couch) by a wall that crossed half the width of the room. “Which bed do you want?” he asked, yawning a little.

Luke shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. I can take the far one if Aidan wants to be closer to Paddy.” He grabbed his bag and shoving it lazily toward his chosen bed, not caring when it fell short. “Do you want to shower before you go to bed?”

Dean shook his head. “I’ll just wait until after practice tomorrow,” he answered. “Practice doesn’t start ‘til ten, since everyone else on the team is figuring out jet lag, so we don’t need to get up before eight.”

“Ooh, sleeping in,” Luke said with a grin. “I’ll set an alarm, but we’ll probably be up by then.” He leaned against the chest of drawers behind him, too tired to really stand but utterly sick of sitting after remaining seated for most of the day, and pulled out his phone to set up a 7:45 alarm. He messed around with his settings for a bit, and by the time he put it away, he was glad to see Patrick was asleep on his older father’s lap. “Oh, good. Want me to put him in the crib?” Unlike the crib that they had back in London, this one was at a height for able-bodied people, and there was no way that Dean would be able to reach into it for Patrick.

“Please,” Dean replied, handing his son off to the Welshman. “Once Aidan’s out of the bathroom, we can go in and do my routine, and I’ll get in bed so you can do whatever you need to do.” He let his neck relax, using his headrest for support, and sighed softly, listening to the water of the shower and the blessed quiet of a sleeping baby.

Aidan came out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, wearing cutoff flannel pajama pants. “Is he asleep?” he asked quietly, breathing a sigh of relief when both Dean and Luke nodded. “Finally. I brushed my teeth already, so you guys can take over the bathroom.” He gave Dean a quick kiss before moving to unpack some of their things, putting clothes in upper drawers so that his husband would be able to reach them more easily.

Within an hour, all three men were in bed, a single lamp on while Aidan carefully stretched Dean’s limbs. It felt a little strange to share a bed while there was another adult in the room, but the Irishman didn’t mind. Luke was like… there was no equivalent for a PCA in able-bodied terms. He was a part of their family, a trusted friend, and, most importantly, a necessary factor in Dean’s physical self-care. Once he had finished with the older man’s physical therapy, Aidan looked over at the other bed. “You good if we turn out the light?” he asked softly. When Luke nodded, he leaned over and clicked off the lamp, snuggling up against his husband and falling asleep quickly.

* * *

“Dean O’Gorman!”

Recognizing the voice calling his name, Dean grinned widely and turned toward his friend. “Jed!” He pulled the man into a hug. “How the hell have you been?”

“Great,” Jed answered, smiling from ear to ear to see his friend once more. “I can’t wait to meet your kid,” he added. “I’ve got plans with the other throwers tonight, but we should have dinner tomorrow.” He paused. “Wait, sorry,” he said, looking over at Luke. “I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jed.”

“Luke,” the Welshman returned, shaking the thrower’s hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He stood with the two men as they caught up, and glanced up when he heard approaching footsteps.

A large man, wearing only running shorts, came up to them, his gait uneven due to wearing a running blade instead of his regular prosthetic on his left side. “Hey,” he said simply, leaning down and hugging Dean tightly. “We’ve missed having you at practices. You should’ve gotten your husband to move to New Zealand.”

“Maybe once he retires from rugby,” Dean answered, smiling. “Manu, this is my PCA, Luke. Luke, Manu’s a sprinter.” After the two had shaken hands, he looked back at the smiling other New Zealand runner. “Jed and I were talking about dinner tomorrow, if you want to join us. Are your kids here with you?”

They made plans for dinner and chatted for a while, catching up on each other’s lives and trading gossip about mutual friends, until they were forced to stop and go their separate ways for practice. Dean settled into his racing wheelchair with a smile, glad to be back with his teammates, and began his warm-up before working on his true sprints. He needed to be in perfect form if he had a chance at breaking the 200 meter world record for T-52 men.

By the time he made it back to the hotel, a protein-filled smoothie and a bread roll with him for dinner, Dean was exhausted, but happy. He found Aidan and Patrick sitting together in bed, with the Irishman quietly reading a picture book to his babbling son.

“Look, there’s Daddy!” Aidan exclaimed, looking up and pointing toward the door as Dean came through it. “Say ‘hi’ to Daddy, bug,” he added, taking Patrick’s hand and waving it toward his older father. “How was practice?” he asked Dean, noting the New Zealander’s exhausted face.

Dean groaned softly, rolling up next to the bed and reach out to gently stroke Patrick’s chubby cheeks with one finger. “Long,” he admitted, picking his smoothie up out of his lap and taking a sip through the straw. “I’m going to finish dinner and then shower.” He smiled as Patrick reached for his shirt, tiny fingers clutching in the air hopefully despite not being close enough to grab. “I made plans with Manu and Jed for dinner tomorrow. They want to meet our little guy.” He leaned over toward his son. “That’s you! Daddy’s friends want to meet you!”

“Paddy’s been good today, but I want to put him to bed soon,” Aidan said, putting down the book that he had been reading to the infant. “Have you eaten?” he asked Luke as the Welshman appeared from the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Luke answered. “Did you? Dean and I can watch Patrick if you need to go out and get something.” He sat down on his bed, knowing that he had a few minutes to rest while Dean ate before they went to the shower.

Aidan shook his head. “I’m fine,” he responded, tickling Patrick’s tummy as the little boy toppled from the precarious sitting position he had been in against a pillow. “I went by a supermarket after taking Paddy around town. Thanks, though,” he added, smiling. “Everything I got is over by the fridge or inside it, if you guys want any. Or tell me what you want and I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

“I could do with some cheese and crackers in case I miss a meal,” Dean answered. “Are you good with Spanish food tomorrow night?” he asked. “Manu’s family stayed back in New Zealand, and so did Jed’s, so it’ll be just the two of them with the four of us.” He finished up his smoothie and moved on and ate his roll quickly. “Luke and I’ll get in the shower, and then I need to get in bed.”

Aidan nodded, leaning over to kiss his husband quickly before lying back in the bed with Patrick as the two other men went into the bathroom. “Daddy’s going to be competing in a couple days, bug,” he said, putting Patrick down on his chest to let the boy relax against him. “Let’s hope you’re nice and awake for that, ‘cause he might break a world record. Wouldn’t that be fun to see? And tomorrow you get to meet his friends. I only know Jed, but I bet that Manu is really nice too.”

Patrick made a few nonsense noises in response, seeming pretty happy between snuggling with his younger father and holding his blanket.

“You make a good point,” Aidan said, nodding sagely. “Maybe Daddy won’t be so tired tomorrow and you can have some time with him. I know he’s been training a lot and working so even when you’re home with him, you don’t get to just play and snuggle all day. He misses being able to just spend time with you too.” He had been with Patrick all day, and he was running out of things to talk to the little boy about. “Okay, I’m going to read my book. If you need something, can you just babble instead of crying? Thanks.” He picked up a mystery novel that he a quarter of the way through, and, with his son still on his chest, began to read from where he had last left off.

By the time Dean came out of the bathroom, he felt ready to fall asleep in his chair. “Okay, let’s go to bed,” he mumbled. “Can you just lift me?” he asked Luke. “Freaking hotel beds are way too high for transfers.”

“Yeah,” Luke answered, getting himself into the correct position to slide his arms under Dean’s body. “Ready?” When he got an affirmative answer in return, he lifted the Kiwi up into the hotel bed, putting him down close to Aidan. “Is that a good position?” he asked.

Dean nodded. “We can figure out any adjustments. You can get ready and go to bed whenever you want,” he informed the Welshman before turning to look at his husband and son as Luke grabbed his pajamas and toiletries and headed into the bathroom. “How was your day, Paddy? Did you have a lot of fun with Da? I bet you did.”

“I let him play with a couple toys for most of the morning while I did some work, and then in the afternoon we went out to look around the city and get food at the supermarket,” Aidan answered cheerfully. “I swear he’s getting calmer and less fussy by the day. Our little guy is growing up.”

Tiredly, Dean stretched his right arm over to tickle his son’s cheek. “Good for you, being well-behaved for Da,” he praised. “Now can you be a good boy for Daddy and go to sleep soon? And maybe sleep well?”

Patrick pushed himself up on Aidan’s chest and gave his older father a smile, his little gums poking out. “Ba-ba,” he said happily.

Glad to see his son smiling, Dean nodded. “Ba-ba,” he said in agreement. “Think you can sleep for eight hours tonight? You’ve been doing that sometimes lately, and Da and I appreciate it. I bet Uncle Luke would like it too, now that he’s staying in the same room for a couple weeks.”

Luckily, Patrick started yawning after a few minutes, and was asleep by the time Luke came out of the bathroom, wearing his pajamas, hair dripping from his shower. “You got him in bed already? Nice,” he commented, seeing the infant already asleep in the crib. “Do you need anything before I get in bed?” he asked Dean, crouching down by his bag to take out his laptop.

“Nah,” Dean answered, his head snug against Aidan’s shoulder. “I’ll probably be asleep in half an hour. Do whatever you want.”

“Porn it is,” Luke teased as he opened his computer.

Dean was correct in his predictions, in that he fell asleep within fifteen minutes. The other two men continued to read for a while, but put their books down relatively early and turned out the light.

* * *

“Wow, he is really damn cute,” Manu said, looking a little in awe of Patrick as he took the infant from Dean’s arms. “Plus, you know, congenital limb deficiencies are great,” he added, bouncing a little to keep Patrick happy. “You probably already figured this out from your dad, but having two full legs is completely overrated,” he explained cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed, grinning over at Dean, Jed, and Luke. “You guys are boring dicks for having two legs.” He looked up when a waiter walked up to them. “Is our table ready?” he asked, wishing, not for the first time, that he could speak even a little German.

Nodding, the man answered, “Yes. Come with me.” He led them just a few meters over to a waiting table, which had two chairs pulled away and a high chair set up. “Is this okay for you?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Dean answered, pulling up to the table to sit between Luke and Manu, with Aidan and Jed across from them. “Hey, buddy. Are you having fun with your new friend?” he asked his son, smiling widely. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”

Patrick smiled gummily at his older father before turning to look up at Manu, reaching toward his face. “Ma-ma-ma-ma.”

With a bit of a laugh, Manu raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Every gay father’s worst nightmare,” he teased. “Your kid’s first word is Mama.”

“It’s just babbling,” Aidan said breezily. “Eventually he’ll figure out Daddy and Da.” He shrugged, clearly unconcerned about his son’s babbled sort-of words. “How many events are you doing?”

“Two,” Manu answered. “100 meters and 200 meters. I didn’t qualify for Rio, but I’m aiming for Tokyo,” he explained. “If I do well here, it’s going to help me qualify for the world championships. Your Daddy will be there, so I could see you again,” he told Patrick happily, jiggling him again.

Dean smiled. “I can’t believe we’re competing in just two days. I love being a dad and working and all, but I miss being in big races.” He picked up his menu stiffly, his hands extra spastic from a long day with them in gloves.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked, seeing Dean’s hands struggling to open his menu.

Dean sighed, looking frustrated. “Can you open it for me?” he asked softly. “I don’t know if I can hold my fork, either,” he admitted.

“It’s all good,” Luke promised, opening the menu and putting it on the table for Dean to read. “I’ll help with eating if that’s what you need.” He looked over the other man’s shoulder rather than getting his own menu open, trying to decide what he wanted. Unlike all the athletes at the table, he didn’t need a lot of carbs, nor did he need a completely balanced meal. He easily chose a steak sandwich, and leaned back to give Dean some room.

Everyone at the table had decided on their meals by the time the waiter returned, and they ordered; the New Zealanders all got pasta dishes, while Aidan chose chicken and vegetables. The young rugby player also got a drink, the only man to do so. They all relaxed in their seats once the waiter left, with Manu still holding Patrick.

“Manu, did insurance cover prosthetics as you grew?” Aidan asked after a couple minutes of small talk with Jed.

The Kiwi nodded. “Yeah, they did,” he answered. “It’s a little harder to get them to cover new ones very often once you’re an adult, but my insurance, at least, was good about giving me a new one when I grew out of the last one.” He looked over at the Irishman, a little surprised. “You planning to do prosthetics for Patrick?”

“Maybe,” Aidan answered. “I hope to get some when he’s one, along with a chair, so he can choose which one he wants. I had a choice; I never tried prostheses, but I chose not to because I was old enough. I want him to try both as a kid so that he doesn’t think a chair is his only option.” He looked over at Patrick, who was clutching Manu’s shirt. “Bug, you can walk or roll when you get a bit bigger. Do whatever you want.”

“Prosthetics for babies are really cute,” Manu said, grinning widely. “My mum has some home videos of me as a little kid, and I had some plastic ones and was wobbly but really freaking adorable.”

Aidan smiled as well. “Awesome. Paddy’s already a cute little guy, so he’ll only get cuter with a chair or prosthetics. I’ve heard some great things about the 3D printed ones for really little kids, since they’re pretty cheap and they don’t need really good ones before they’re old enough to really walk.” He looked down at Patrick once more. “I guess Uncle Luke will have to be the one to teach you how to walk,” he said. When the little boy started reaching for him, whining a little, he took him from Manu before the whines could turn into real cries.

“Guess he doesn’t like the idea of walking,” Jed said, laughing a little. “Too much talk of prosthetics and he starts crying.” He looked over at Dean, seeing the other man wincing a little. “You sure you’re okay?”

Dean nodded. “I’ll just need some massage tonight. I haven’t spent that long in gloves all at once for a while. I’m still training at home, obviously, but I spent all day in gloves today and yesterday and my only break was last night. It’s pretty much hell.” He tried to flex his fingers and his face pinched. “Hands suck.”

“You want me to help, babe?” Aidan asked, looking up from Patrick’s tiny, smiling face.

“Luke and I’ve got it,” Dean replied. He preferred to get Luke’s help when the Welshman was around, as it was his job. He loved Aidan and didn’t mind getting help from him when he needed it, but it wasn’t necessary at that moment, not with Luke there.

Aidan nodded his agreement and turned to hand Patrick to Jed. They talked cheerfully until their food arrived. “Danke,” Aidan said, keenly aware that his German accent was terrible, but the waiter smiled all the same. He took Patrick back from Jed and held the infant in one hand, rocking gently, as he picked up his fork and started to eat.

Across the table, Luke leaned over toward Dean and picked up his fork. “Let me know if you want your water or some bread,” he said quietly, spearing some penne and lifting it toward the blond man’s mouth.

Dean only rarely asked Luke, or any of his previous PCAs, to feed him, but his hands were far too stiff to hold a fork that evening. “You can eat a bit,” he told Luke after a few bites, turning to Manu as the Welshman turned his sandwich. “How are your kids doing?” he asked, and smiled as the other man began to talk animatedly about his three children.

Dinner passed with cheerful conversation while Luke and Dean took turns eating, finishing a while after the others, who were perfectly happy to wait for them to get through with their meals.

“I’ll see you guys at practice tomorrow,” Dean said, obviously exhausted as he sat outside the restaurant with his friends as the two other New Zealanders hailed a cab. “Have a good night,” he added.

Jed and Manu bade their goodbyes before getting in the cab to go to their hotel, while Aidan, Dean, and Luke headed back to their own hotel, just a few blocks away. Aidan had Patrick’s special pram attached to his wheelchair, and he made cheerful, silly faces at the little boy as they moved down the sidewalk.

By the time they got back to the hotel, Dean was clearly about to fall asleep in his chair. “I’m going to bed,” he said, heading into the bathroom, Luke trailing after him to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple final things: one, I have been watching Spartacus and thus care a lot about bringing Manu Bennett into this story because Spartacus is fucking awesome, and two, as always I think a lot about portrayal of disability in my stories. Dean sometimes needs help to eat. He's still a badass fucking athlete, because needing help is a fact of life, and not just for disabled people.


	38. Grand Prix pt Two

Dean sat at the starting line, breathing deeply as he looked up at the track before him, the hundred meter stretch and the curve that he had to follow around for the two hundred meter race. With such a short race, he didn’t have to worry about cutting someone off, since they would all end at the two hundred meter mark in their own lanes. He let his face scrunch a little, the relaxation after the motion calming him, and he let out a long breath, his hands on his rims as he waited for the starting gun.

As soon as the shot rang out, Dean shoved his hands down, giving a few short strokes to get his momentum up before settling into his regular strokes. There was barely any time to settle, though, because the race was so damn fast. He could see out of the corner of his eye that someone was moving up close to him, and he pressed harder, ignoring the way his shoulders ached at the extreme burst of energy and sharp strokes. He breathed harshly, his chest heaving against his thighs, but he kept going hard. There was no time to have any thoughts, and he felt like he had barely started when he rolled across the finish line and raised his hands up in celebration. He knew he was first, since he was in the outermost lane but was still ahead of the others. The only question he had was his exact time.

He panted wildly, trying to regain his breath as he pressed on the break near the front of his racer’s frame. “Shit,” he groaned, feeling exhaustion creeping into him. “Come on,” he muttered, trying to hear the time he had gotten even as he moved toward the side of the track where his coach and Luke were waiting. “How did I do?” he asked breathlessly.

His coach smiled widely. “World fucking record,” he replied, watching as Dean’s face went from exhaustion to shock to pure joy.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasped, looking up at his coach with wide eyes. “I finally fucking did it. Holy shit.” He stayed leaned forward in his chair, knowing that he would flip backwards if he tried to sit up; unlike people with abdominal function, he had to shove himself up with a hand on his thighs, and he couldn’t control his movements with enough finesse to keep himself from sitting too high up. “Regular chair?” he asked Luke, needing to sit up so that he could catch his breath.

“Congratulations,” Luke said, grinning widely as he lifted the New Zealander into his power chair. “You’ve worked hard and deserve that record.” He couldn’t stop smiling. He was proud of Dean, and he knew that Aidan would be too. “I’ll go take your kid out tonight if you want to, ah, celebrate with your husband.”

Dean blushed a little, but he nodded. “Thanks. My offer to make you my sex PCA is still there,” he teased, laughing loudly at Luke’s expression. “You know, if you didn’t react so much, I wouldn’t be so annoying about it.”

“Piss off,” Luke answered, laughing a little at his own obvious discomfort as he helped Dean get his gloves off. “Come on, go get your medal.”

* * *

“Daddy won! You were even awake and clapping your hands to see it!” Aidan cooed, rolling forward to kiss Dean excitedly, not caring that the other man was covered in sweat. “Can you clap again for Daddy?”

Patrick clapped his tiny hands together when he saw Luke doing the same thing, and his older father’s smile got even wider as he reached out to hold him.

“Thank you, Paddy,” he said, happy when his son grabbed his shirt tightly. “Look at your outfit! That’s Daddy’s flag!”

Aidan grinned, leaning forward and holding himself up with his hand on Dean’s knee. “My ma made it for him to wear here,” he explained, kissing his husband’s cheek, unable to get over the fact that not only had the older man won, but he had set a record in the process. “You’re extra hot when you win,” he whispered. “All that confidence and pride just get me going.”

With a bit of a blush, Dean shook his head. “Luke told me he’s going to take Paddy out, because he’s got a dirty mind and knows you’re going to want to do something with me,” he mumbled back. “I’ve got to do a couple interviews. Can you take Patrick?” he asked, seeing his coach beckoning to him, surrounded by people with cameras. He rolled over, a wide grin on his face, to talk to a couple IPC people and reporters along with his coach, but was happy when he managed to get away and could go back to his husband and son. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I need a fucking shower.”

As they rode back toward the hotel, Dean pulled out his smartphone and updated his Facebook with a picture that Luke had taken of him with Aidan and Patrick and a cheerful few sentences about breaking the record and being with his family. Embarrassingly, he ended it with a couple emojis, but he was excited and felt the need to put happy things there.

“I can’t believe you broke that record,” Aidan said, twisting in his seat to see his husband. “Or, like, I can, because you’re amazing, but still. Wow. You’re basically the greatest athlete on the planet.”

Blushing at the praise, Dean ducked his head. “I’m not really. There are a lot of people with more medals and—“

“Shut up, you’re clearly the best,” Aidan interrupted.

“Patrick seems to agree,” Luke said, watching as the little boy clapped his hands happily while sitting in his car seat. “He and I are going to go out for a few hours to look around the city, and I’ll text before we come back,” he added, smirking a little. “We’ll have fun, and I trust you two will too.”

“It’s kind of creepy when you leave and know what we’re going to do,” Aidan commented, but he was thankful all the same. “I mean, I’m happy you’re doing that for us, because Dean deserves to get, um—“

Dean blanched. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he interrupted his husband. “Luke doesn’t need any details. Ever.”

“I was just going to say ‘rewarded’ or something like that,” Aidan protested, but he didn’t start his sentence over again. “I assume you want to shower before Luke heads out with Paddy,” he added, looking back at Dean, who nodded. “I’ll try to get Paddy calmed down while you shower.”

An hour later, Dean was showered and comfortably on the bed, and Luke had Patrick in his car seat, which was in a wire-frame stroller. The nice stroller was the one that attached to the front of Aidan’s wheelchair, but this one worked fine for the short-term. “I’ll see you guys later,” the Welshman said, trying not to blush. “Like I said, I’ll text you before I come barging in.”

“Bye,” Aidan said cheerfully, and Dean echoed him a little more quietly. “It turns out that I happen to have a bit of a fetish for blond New Zealanders who set world records in T-52 sprints,” he said, rolling on top of his husband and grinding down on him slowly. “I had to work really hard to keep from getting a giant boner in front of Luke.”

“Did you now?” Dean asked, reaching up to rub his hand across the younger man’s thigh. “I seem to recall you promising me a lot if I set a world record, and, I don’t know if you know, but I fit into that fetish you just described.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “What sort of promises are you prepared to fill?” he asked in a husky voice.

Aidan smirked. “All of ‘em,” he answered, rubbing his hand over Dean’s chest and pinching his nipples, rather glad that he had gotten Luke to only help him put on pajama pants, rather than a shirt as well. “Well, some of those promises might wait ‘til we get home, because I didn’t pack the glass dildo. I didn’t want it to break in the suitcase. I brought a vibrator, and I fully intend to fulfill that promise.”

“Holy shit, you are one great husband,” Dean breathed. “A few years ago, one of my paralyzed teammates said that he got a really good orgasm from a vibrator on his nipples, so, uh, we could try that.”

“You talk to your teammates about orgasms?” Aidan said, pausing in his grinding and pinching. “Seriously?”

Dean shrugged his right shoulder. “We were drunk, and it was only a couple years after my accident, so, like, I wanted to know,” he explained. He blushed a little. “I might have had a, eh, two-and-a-half year dry spell post-accident.”

“Did you ever have awesome vibrator nipple orgasms?” Aidan asked, sliding off Dean and lowering himself to the floor so that he could pull himself over to their suitcase and pulled out his bullet vibrator, already loaded up with batteries.

“No,” the older man answered. “I was fucking able-bodied guys once I started having sex again, and they weren’t really into that sort of thing. Abled men seem to have a one-track mind, and that one track is sticking a dick in a hole.” He winced a little. “My sexy talk leaves something desired, doesn’t it?”

Aidan grinned. “Eh, I think able-bodied guys are shit in the sack too,” he replied, getting back up onto the bed. “I’m glad I’m a hell of a lot better. And I’m more than happy to stick a vibrator against your nipples until you come so hard you forget your fucking name.”

With a groan of arousal, Dean reached up with his right arm and grabbed Aidan’s hair in between his stiff fingers. “You’re hot as hell,” he muttered, tugging on those dark curls to bring the younger man down for a deep kiss, his left hand still closed up but running down Aidan’s back. “Clothes off,” he groaned when he pulled back for a desperate breath.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered, similarly breathless. “Fuck,” he said succinctly, sitting up and pulling his shirt off before moving off of Dean to yank both of their pants off as quickly as he could. “Do you want me to get you hard?” he asked simply, not sure what his husband would prefer that night.

Dean shook his head. “Nah. If I’m not fucking you, I don’t need it. It might happen anyway.” He sighed happily when Aidan moved back on top of him and leaned over to kiss his neck. Though he wanted to get off, he liked the tenderness that came before it, the way it honestly felt like Aidan adored him. “I love you,” he said softly, dragging his right hand down his husband’s back gently.

Smiling, Aidan pushed himself up on his forearms to look at Dean’s face. “I love you too,” he told the older man before leaning back down and kissing his way down the blond man’s chest. “And I think you’re the sexiest man alive.”

When Aidan’s mouth reached his right nipple and began to suck, Dean gasped quietly and digging his right hand nails into the younger man’s shoulder. “God,” he whispered. “Are you hard?”

“Fuck yeah,” Aidan breathed, grinding down a little against Dean’s leg. “Have you met yourself? It’s a miracle I don’t end up with those four-hour erections they talk about in Viagra commercials.”

Dean huffed out a laugh, though it was interrupted by a quiet moan when Aidan bit down lightly on his nipple. “Shit, yeah,” he groaned, sliding his hand from the younger man’s shoulder to his dark hair. “Vi… vibrator?” he gasped hopefully.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered, grinning. “You’re going to get whatever the hell you want in bed for a long time, Dean O’Gorman, world record holder.” He pressed his hips down a little harder against the older man’s hips. “It gets me kind of hot to say that. World record holder,” he repeated, dragging the words out a little.

“I’m pretty sure it’s all the grinding getting you hot, not my new world record,” Dean managed to say, but he shut up when Aidan sat up on top of his hips and picked up the vibrator from next to them.

Aidan began to grind his ass down, and then paused. “I can feel you getting hard. Are you okay with me rubbing myself on your cock?” he asked, wanting to be sure he wasn’t doing anything that Dean didn’t expressly consent to.

“Definitely,” Dean answered, feeling a little bit of pleasurable sensation below his waist that he was pretty sure was coming from his partial erection. “Vibrator would be nice,” he added as a not-so-subtle hint.

Aidan laughed a little. “Yeah, I bet it would,” he said, continuing to rub Dean’s cock against his ass lewdly as he pressed the hard plastic of the toy against his husband’s nipple before turning it on starting with the lowest setting.

“Holy shit!” Dean practically screamed immediately, throwing his head back and scratching his hand down Aidan’s arm. “Oh my God, Aid!” He was surprised at the strength of the sensation; though his chest had more feeling than his lower body, it still was nowhere near the amount he had felt when he was able-bodied.

“I don’t think you’ve ever reacted that strongly before,” Aidan said in awe, his hips stilling in surprise. “So fucking hot.” He pressed a button on the vibrator to increase the intensity, letting out a moan when the older man shuddered on the bed and cried out. “Babe,” he whispered, bending down to kiss Dean deeply, bucking his hips into his husband’s stomach as he felt the vibrations against his own chest. His erection brushed against the bulge of the older man’s baclofen pump, but he was so used to the sensation that he barely noticed.

Dean could feel the pressure of Aidan’s body moving against his, and he felt a stab of arousal just knowing that he made the Irishman so hot. “Shit, that feels so good,” he gasped, shifting his right shoulder in hopes of raising his chest up into the vibrator. “Aid, turn it up or press it down more?” he begged when shifting didn’t work. “Fuck!” The vibrations picked up speed and made him scream out again, unable to stop himself even though he knew that hotel walls weren’t soundproof.

Aidan arched back, dragging his hips harder into Dean’s as he rubbed the vibrator harder against his husband’s hard nipple. “Come on, babe, I want to see you come,” he muttered, biting down on Dean’s neck and crying out in surprise when he felt hot semen splatter against his ass.

“Aid!” Dean screamed, shuddering below the younger man as he came, the vibrator buzzing against his nipple dragging it out. “Turn it… turn it off,” he gasped as the sensation became too much.

Tossing aside the toy without bothering to turn it off, Aidan leaned down and kissed the New Zealander sloppily, thrusting a few more times into the older man’s stomach before coming with a breathless cry, his head dropping forward onto his husband’s shoulder. “Holy shit,” he gasped, reaching out with a shaky hand and turning off the vibrator before rolling off of Dean. He then kissed his husband’s sweaty forehead. “See? World record sex is amazing.”

Dean laughed between panting breaths. “Yeah,” he managed to answer. “I am definitely motivated for the rest of my events now,” he teased, turning his head to look fondly over at the brunet. “Thanks for doing that, uh, that nipple thing. I know it’s boring for you, since it’s only for me, but…”

“Yeah, no, watching my super hot husband get off while I rut against him is _so_ boring,” Aidan said, rolling his eyes. “The able-bodied guys who wouldn’t do that with you were really missing out.” He sat up slowly, balancing with his arms, and wiped his stomach with the sheets. “Let me get a cloth and clean us up.”

“Did you mean to come all over my pump bulge?” Dean asked, sounding amused. “If that’s your thing, it’s cool,” he added.

“We’ve been together for, like, two and a half years, Dean. I think you would’ve noticed if I was super into your pump,” Aidan answered, sliding into his chair so that he could go into the bathroom, returning to the bed with a wet, warm cloth in his lap. “On the other hand, it’s not, like, a bad place to rub against,” he continued, wiping the viscous fluid off of Dean’s stomach. “Want anything else from me before we let Luke come back?” he asked, grinning.

Dean shook his head, looking tired in a happily sated way. “I’m beat, babe, and I’ve got to get sleep for tomorrow,” he answered. “Can you get my pajama pants back on and text Luke? He shouldn’t stay out babysitting any longer than he has to. It was nice of him to let us fuck, though.”

“I wonder if they make special thank you cards for that,” Aidan said thoughtfully, tossing the vibrator into his suitcase and picking his husband’s pajama pants off the floor. Dean tended to need more help from Aidan or Luke after long days in his racing chair, and this night was no exception. The Irishman slid the flannel pants up his husband’s legs and settled them over his hips before pulling on his own boxers and t-shirt and sending off a text to Luke.

_You can come back now. Thanks for that._

He got a text back almost immediately. _No problem. We’ll be there in five minutes. I took him to a coffee place, got him a few espresso shots, and we got matching tattoos._

_Okay, but it better be a badass tat._

“He said it should only be five minutes until he and Paddy get back,” Aidan informed his husband. “You don’t happen to have any sort of cleaning spray, do you? Because I don’t want Luke to come in and smell a ton of come.”

Dean shook his head. “Sorry, babe. But Luke’s a PCA, so he’s kind of seen it all. Anyway, he specifically chose to babysit our kid so that we could fuck. I think he’s expecting it.” He relaxed back into the pillows, clearly unconcerned. “I brushed my teeth when I was doing my routine after my shower, so I just need a bit of a massage and my pain meds and I’ll be good.”

“I can do that!” Aidan said cheerfully, getting a cup of water from the bathroom and opening up the bottle with Dean’s pain medication. Though the tops were supposedly easy to open specifically for people with dexterity issues, the older man couldn’t do it himself. Aidan came back to the bed and helped his husband to take the pill before getting back onto the mattress and beginning to massage his limbs. “Tell me if it hurts,” he instructed, as he did every time he did this.

“I always do,” Dean answered, smiling tiredly. “Hey!” he said happily when the door opened and Luke pushed Patrick’s stroller into the room. “Did you guys have fun?”

Luke’s mouth twitched into a small smirk. “No need to ask if you did,” he replied. “Paddy fell asleep on the way back. I mostly just hung out with him while drinking some decaf coffee. I’m glad he doesn’t understand words yet,” he added, a distasteful expression crossing his features, “because I heard some ableist bullshit from some English tourists. Everyone is just _so sad_ because it is _so tragic_ that a little baby doesn’t have legs.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m really glad that you get angry about ableism,” Aidan said, carefully moving Dean’s legs to stretch out the tight muscles.

“You don’t have to be disabled to hate people who think disability is the worst thing that can happen to someone,” Luke said with a shrug, putting Patrick into his crib. “Need help with anything?”

Dean shook his head. “As long as Aid’s cool to do my PT, you can get ready for bed. I need to go to sleep as soon as I can, since I’ve got the 5k tomorrow.” He groaned a little. “Why can’t they schedule events to be more spread out?”

“Because they don’t expect people to do so many events that they’re competing practically every single day,” Aidan pointed out drily. “How are your arms feeling?”

“Good,” Dean answered. “I’m going to go to sleep,” he announced, scooting as well as he could toward Aidan with a smile on his face. Unsurprisingly, given how long his day had been, he was asleep within twenty minutes.

* * *

“What race do you have today?” Manu asked when he saw Dean and Luke bringing the other New Zealander’s racing chair down by the track.

“5k,” Dean replied. “Is today one or two hundred for T43 and 44?”

“Two hundred,” Manu answered. “The one hundred is a couple days away. I don’t know how you’re doing a race each day. What the hell, mate?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s how the scheduling turned out. It’s better than more than one race a day. I think your race is before mine, so I’ll be cheering for you. Good luck. Not that you need it,” he added with a grin.

“Damn right. I’m 50% muscle, 50% talent,” Manu said, smirking with his joking false bravado. “I’m like that song, you know the one, 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will… and then some other percentages.”

Grinning, Dean nudged his friend in the stomach, unable to reach up or unfold his hand for the more standard clap on the shoulder. “I’ll see you after the race. Make New Zealand proud, yeah?”

Manu nodded and jogged off, heading back to the ambulatory amputee coach for a last-minute conversation, and Dean moved with Luke to talk to the wheelchair racing coach. He was excited to watch Manu race, but he also needed to keep himself calm and focused for the upcoming 5k. While he enjoyed distance, he sort of wished it were road-racing, because going around a track more than ten times was pretty repetitive.

“Dean, get in your racer and do some warm-ups,” his coach instructed, effectively tearing his attention away from the runners who were getting ready to start and making him focus instead on his own exercise and work. “I’ll give you half a minute off to watch the race itself.”

Obediently, Dean asked Luke to lift him into his racing chair, and he did a little jog around the warm-up area before switching to some of the drills that his coach referred to as dynamic stretching. He got to pause, as promised, to watch Manu’s race.

The men all lined up at the starting line, bracing against starting blocks. Dean recognized a few of his friends from the British team up there with Manu, and he wondered if his fellow Kiwi would manage to beat Jonnie Peacock. As much as he loved Manu, he didn’t think that was very likely. Once the men started, the race was over in less than half a minute, all of the men running at full speed for the short burst. Out of the six runners, Manu placed second, beaten only by Jonnie Peacock. “Nice, Bennett!” he yelled out, giving his friend a huge grin before his coach made him get back to work.

It felt like he had barely moved around before he was headed to the starting line again, planning out his race strategy in his head. He had a good race pace in his head, and he needed to stick to it once he managed to get out ahead and in the innermost lane to travel the shortest distance as he made endless loops around the track. When the starting gun went off, he sprinted ahead and moved into the innermost lane and then slowed. He was still fast, of course, but there was no point in wasting all of his energy on sprinting ahead for more time than necessary.

It was a grueling race, more so than a sprint. While sprints pushed his stiff arms as fast as they could possibly go, the longer races took endurance and a much longer time spent trying to stay ahead of everyone else. He pushed through it, constantly adjusting the pace of his strokes to account for the tiny differences in his opponents’ speeds, and eventually, his chest practically burning as he worked to take in air, he was on his second to last lap. There was an American athlete just in front of him, and he had to overtake at guy on one of the straightaways before the final lap; these men were all endurance racers, but he had saved his last burst of energy for a final sprint, one that he was well-prepared for. He pulled away from the inside as soon as he finished the curve and shoved his handrims harder and faster, pushing as hard as he could to overtake the American before they hit the next turn.

He barely made it, but he did, and he pressed on into the final lap. Four hundred more meters, he told himself. He could do four hundred meters in his sleep, right? Right. With as deep a breath as he could manage, he started to speed up into the start of his sprint. The true sprint would come in the final straightaway, a hundred meter sprint that he had to make worth it. He delved deep into his internal motivators, past the standard ones about winning and pride and instead going to his most embarrassing: yelling rap lyrics at himself in his head, because a hundred motherfuckers really _couldn’t_ tell him nothing.

His shoulders were hurting, and he needed water and a fucking nap, but there was no option for that. He had no intentions of losing this race after winning the gold in Rio, and he had a tiny family waiting for him. He rounded out the last bend and threw everything he had into the final sprint; just one hundred more meters and he would be done. There was no need to conserve energy, because this was fucking _it_. With the American nearly upon him, he mentally counted out his final five strokes. Four more. Three more. Two more. Last fucking one, O’Gorman. He lifted his arms as he went across the finish line, both in celebration and in a much-needed stretch. He had come in first, but just barely; the American had given him a definite run for his money. “You’re fucking great,” he panted, giving the man a smile. “I don’t think I saw you in Rio.”

“I didn’t qualify,” the man responded in an equally breathless voice.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be going to Tokyo with times like that,” Dean told him, pressing his brake to come to an almost full stop before starting slow strokes to head over to his coach and get some water. “Damn,” he groaned. “That American is _good_.”

His coach nodded, helping him get his gloves off while Luke went to grab some water. “You’re probably the best male T52 on the planet right now, and you barely beat him. You did damn well,” the older man added. “It wasn’t that you were slower than usual, but that guy, Lee, is fucking _fast_. I think he’s got a bit more arm function than you do. Fucking classifying system.”

“I don’t know,” Dean said, watching as that Lee guy moved from his racer to his regular wheelchair. “His chair looks a lot like my manual, and if I didn’t have a kid, I’d be in my manual.”

“No PCA, though,” Luke observed. “In the end, it doesn’t matter, because you guys are the same category, so you’ll be against him in Tokyo, provided you both qualify.” He helped Dean, whose hands were agonizingly stiff from being in the gloves and pressed against the handrims for such a long race, to get a water bottle with a plastic straw up to his mouth. “You look exhausted,” he commented.

Dean nodded, still drinking his water. “Yeah,” he said, pulling away from the straw to breathe and talk. “You’re definitely not going to need to take my kid out so I can have sex tonight. I’m going to pass the fuck out the second I get home, and then try to survive my sprints tomorrow.”

“Between me and his husband, someone can make sure he at least eats and maybe showers before the passing the fuck out part,” Luke assured the coach with a smile. “Are you ready to get back in your chair?” he asked Dean, lifting the other man carefully when he received an affirmative. “Okay, medal, family, dinner, sleep,” he said, letting Dean turn on his chair and start to move.

“Eeee!” Patrick yelled excitedly when Dean came over toward him, reaching his tiny hands out excitedly when he got close enough to recognize his father. “Eee!”

Dean grinned, letting Aidan hand their son over to him. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly, giving the little boy a kiss, followed by a quick peck to his husband’s lips. “Daddy is really sorry for smelling so bad,” he added with a self-deprecating smile. “Do you want to come for the special pictures after the race? You do? Good, because I don’t want to let you go. Da gets to play with you all day, and I don’t see you at all.” He kept Patrick in his lap and rolled off over to his coach, knowing that the IPC Athletics people tended to want a couple pictures for their articles.

“Is this your son?” asked the American, Lee.

Dean nodded, grinning. “Yeah, this is Patrick. He’s six months old now.” He looked over at the other man, who looked younger than himself. “Okay, I know your name is Lee, but I didn’t catch your last name?”

“Pace,” Lee answered, waving at Patrick. “I’m doing the 10k next week. You?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied cheerfully. “Mm?” He made a questioning noise when he heard his name, and then grinned for a couple proud photos. “Nice to meet you, Lee. You’re great on the track. I’ll see you for the 10k.”

Lee waved goodbye and turned over to talk to some of the IPC Athletics people, and Dean headed back to Luke and Aidan, the latter of whom took Patrick and put him in his stroller. After ducking into a locker room to get the New Zealander out of his racing gear and into sweatpants and a t-shirt, Dean and Luke rejoined Aidan to go back to the hotel.

“Okay, babe, let’s get you to bed before you fall out of your chair,” Aidan said, giving his husband a kiss. “I’ve got some microwave meals back at the hotel, so I can make you one while you’re in the shower and then you can sleep enough to be ready for tomorrow. Are you sure you’ll be okay to race?”

“Yeah. Luke can stretch me out in the shower.”

Aidan tried to restrain a smirk, but he couldn’t help but laugh. “Hot,” he teased, rolling forward. Thankfully, their hotel was pretty close to the track and, as Dean was in his power chair, they didn’t have to take a taxi. “Paddy, can you try to sleep through the whole night? You’ve been pretty good about that lately, and your Daddy could really use a long night of sleep.”

“No, yeah, do that,” Dean said, clearly exhausted as the adrenaline from the race faded quickly. “Please, buddy. Listen to Da and sleep for eight or so hours.” He felt himself leaning to the left in his chair, but was too tired to do much about it. Luckily, they were at the hotel within ten minutes, and in their room within twelve.

“Shower,” Aidan instructed, taking the stroller off the front of his chair and holding his son in his lap. “Paddy and I are going to make dinner while you take a hot shower, with lots of stretching, and then you can go to sleep. If he doesn’t go to sleep and gets cranky, I’ll take him out so he doesn’t wake you up.”

Dean thought about protesting, to say that he would shoulder his fair share of parenting duties that night, but he was too tired to do that, and he needed to be up and ready to go the next morning. His race, the hundred meters, was in the afternoon, so he could have a little bit of a lie-in, but he still needed to get to bed as soon as possible. Luke’s swim trunks were hanging up in the bathroom to dry, and he quickly changed into them before helping Dean out of his sweaty clothes and into the shower. “You did great,” the Welshman said as he picked up the soap and started to wash off the blond man’s arms, gently pulling them into stretches. “Do you really think you’ll be good to go tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered, face pinching a little as the brunet worked his stiff limbs. “I’ve done it before. I’m just tired and spastic right now, but with stretching before I sleep and some in the morning, I’ll be okay. It’s a sprint, not an endurance event, and I’ve got the weekend to recover before I do the 10k.”

“You’re doing the 10k?” Luke asked, a little louder than he meant to. “For fuck’s sake, Dean,” he added, lowering his voice to a more appropriate volume, “is there any distance you aren’t doing?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m not doing relays,” he answered. “So I do hundred, two hundred, four hundred, eight hundred, and fifteen hundred meters, and then five and ten k,” he explained. “Seven events over two weeks. I’ve got the hundred and eight hundred left this week, and then four hundred, fifteen hundred, and 10k next week. It’s not bad.”

“We are very different people,” Luke said, shaking his head and moving to stretch Dean’s other arm. “That literally sounds like what hell would be for me.” He moved to crouch down and stretch Dean’s legs; while his legs didn’t move, they did get cramped from being in the racing chair all day. “If you need to pee, please don’t do it now,” he said cheerfully, working on the other man’s ankles as well as his knee and hip joints.

“I think that’s going to be good for my legs,” Dean said after a little while. “We can do a bit more on my arms after I get in bed, but let’s finish washing up now so I can eat, yeah?”

Luke nodded, moving up to wash Dean’s hair and put conditioner into it before making pouring liquid soap onto his hands and rubbing it all over the other man’s body, making sure to wash all the sweat from the Kiwi’s body. “You’re awesome and all, but you’re completely disgusting right now,” he muttered as he scrubbed a little. “Are you good to get out?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered with a nod. “I’ll eat dinner and then do my bedtime routine. I’m tired enough to sleep with the light on, so you and Aid can stay up as much as you want.”

“I feel tired just from watching you,” Luke muttered, turning off the water. After a few minutes, they left the bathroom; Luke was back in his normal clothes, but they had forgotten to bring in any clothes for Dean.

Aidan raised an eyebrow. “Have you become a nudist?” he asked drily. “I’ll put a chicken and vegetable meal in the microwave while you get your pajama pants on,” he said, moving his chair out of the way so that Dean’s bulky power chair. “Let’s make Daddy some dinner!” he told Patrick cheerfully, jiggling his son while using his free hand to stick the plastic tray into the microwave and punch the buttons to start it. “When Daddy eats, you can have some strained carrots. That’s going to be good, bug. You’re doing great with starting to eat real food.”

Patrick smiled and clapped his hands together, babbling nonsense happily up at his younger father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is in literally every distance except for the relays, because he is ridiculous like that. That's seven events! Also yay Lee! Classifications are based on level of impairment, so even though Lee doesn't have a PCA, as is mentioned here, he is still relatively comparable to Dean in terms of disability. Obviously, no two disabilities are the same, but that's how disabled sports work.
> 
> Yay chapter!


	39. Weekend Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just went through this work and edited their ages to figure it out so that it makes sense to me with competition and work. When they were in Rio, Aidan was 22 and Dean was 24. Now, in March of 2019, they are approximately 24-25 and 27-28. So Dean is still older, but not by that much, and both are fairly young, which makes sense with being so competitive. I changed Dean's accident to be at 21, so he somehow magically went from quadriplegia to Paralympics in three years. Shh, logic isn't a thing.
> 
> ALSO in news of my life, I may have surgery (for my baclofen pump) as early as next week. If that happens, I may post a chapter that's basically an author's note about it so that I can ask for prayers/good thoughts and let you know I may not update for a while :)

The weekend was a welcome break for Dean, who was still on a winning streak but completely exhausted. “Paddy, I have missed seeing you so much,” he said tiredly, smiling over at his son as the little boy sat on the bed, with Aidan protecting him from rolling off. “It’s good to see you at all my events, though. Daddy’s special little guy is a great New Zealand fan, aren’t you?” He winced a little at his own sentence. “Aid, I’m preemptively sorry for the terribly grammar our son will grow up with.”

“He can just say ‘oh my parents aren’t English’ and maybe neglect to mention that we’re from English-speaking countries,” Aidan said breezily. He looked away from his husband, though, when he heard Patrick’s snuffling, pre-cry whine. “Are you feeling sad that you’ve got two daddies talking about you instead of talking _to_ you? Is that why you’re sad?” he asked, picking the small boy up and setting him down on Dean’s chest. “There we go, bug! You get to spend time with Daddy all weekend! Isn’t that nice?”

Dean moved his arm to make sure Patrick couldn’t fall off his chest, smiling as the little boy curled up on him and rubbed his small face against Dean’s t-shirt. “There’s my little guy,” he said softly, smiling. “Are you tired?” Patrick squirmed against him, shoving his face into Dean’s chest and giggling. “I guess not. You’re just a silly little guy today, aren’t you?”

“Ah! Ah!” Patrick yelled out, clearly pleased by the sound of his own voice. “Ap!”

“He’s pretty talkative for a guy who doesn’t know any words yet,” Aidan commented, reaching over to tickle the back of their son’s neck. “You’re going to be a big talker, aren’t you?” He looked over at Dean, dropping the higher-pitched voice he used to talk to his son. “We should start looking into wheels and prosthetics soon. I want to do some research on what’s best and then try to get him his first ones around when he turns one. I know that’s six months away, but it will take a while to do the research, get insurance to work with us, and get him fit for everything.” He pushed his torso up and leaned over to drop a kiss on Patrick’s dark hair. “I can’t wait to see you learning to walk and wheel, bug. I bet you’re going to be great at both.”

Dean laughed softly, trying not to jiggle Patrick too much on his chest. “If he decides to walk, even just part time, he’ll be the tallest in the family. Well, except for Luke,” he corrected himself. “We’d have to wait and see if he gets taller than Luke.” He craned his neck to see his son as the little boy pushed himself up on his hands to look around. “There you are, love!”

“Fa! Fa!” Patrick babbled, reaching out to touch Dean’s face. He forgot about holding himself up, though, and fell forward so that his face was once again pressed into his older father’s chest. He promptly burst into tears.

“Aww, come on, buddy, it was just a little accident,” Dean cooed, gently moving his hand over Patrick’s small back in comfort. “All you did is bump your nose, Paddy. Just a little bump!” When the infant wouldn’t stop crying, Dean looked over at Aidan. “Can you pick him up? That helps him sometimes.”

Aidan moved a tiny bit closer to his husband and picked up the squalling baby from his chest, lifting him over his head briefly before holding him close, sitting up to rock him. “Let’s calm down, bug. Please don’t let this be one of those times where you want to walk around, because Luke has the day off and he’s going around town.” He pressed his lips to Patrick’s teary cheek. “See?” he said as the sobs tapered off. “You’re okay. Want to sit with Daddy again?” He put the now quiet child on his husband’s chest one more, smiling.

“There’s my beautiful baby,” Dean said happily, carefully moving his right hand to stroke it over Patrick’s soft hair. “Do you want to go out to dinner tonight, or stay in?” he asked Aidan, still petting through his son’s hair.

The younger man shrugged, looking happily tired. “I’m cool with either. If you want, we could try to meet some of your teammates for dinner,” he suggested. “Or get delivery of some sort. Is that a thing around here? We might need to speak German for that, but I bet we could ask for help at the front desk.”

“We can go out,” Dean said after a few moments. “I’m going to be back to constant racing and sleeping next week, so I’d like one night out for just the three of us. We love Uncle Luke,” he continued, looking down his chest at his son, “but sometimes I want to just have you and Da all to myself, even when we’re going out.” It was not too hard to stay at home without Luke around, but it was harder when they were out, because fitting two wheelchairs into the disabled stall in a public restroom was practically impossible.

Aidan kissed Dean’s temple. “It’ll be nice to have that, and Luke will be happy with his time off.”

“Our bank account’s going to be happy with his time off,” Dean muttered. Insurance only paid so much of Luke’s salary, and while the Welshman wasn’t counting nights into his hours on this trip, Dean knew he needed to pay some overtime, which was already happening when he helped take care of Patrick… he sometimes felt like crying at the end of the month when they did the bills.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed. “We need to figure out his hours, because budgeting for prosthetics and a chair for Paddy is going to be… tough.” He rested his head on his husband’s shoulder. “If we could cut his hours down so that it’s all paid for by insurance, would that be enough? Like, would you be getting enough care, and would he be making enough money to stay on or would he need to leave for a higher-paying job?”

“How about you wait until we get home before you start all those banker thoughts?” Dean suggested, though he had those concerns as well. “Part of the salary issue is that the overtime we pay him for helping me with Paddy comes out of our pockets instead of from insurance. I honestly can work around having less care. It would be an adjustment, but I could do it. I can do morning and evening care instead of constant daytime care, condom cath for the off hours…”

Aidan shook his head, his hair tickling Dean’s sensitive neck. “Babe, if your hands close up, you can’t just go without eating. I’ll do my banker thing when we get back and see what we can move around in our budget before we start to make decisions about scaling back your care.”

“I bet you’re bored listening to all of this, buddy,” Dean said with a grin, using his right arm to pat his son’s back gently. “Budgets and banking aren’t nearly as fun as toys and stories, are they?”

Patrick blinked up at his older father, clutching a handful of his t-shirt and pulling.

“No, they aren’t. You and Da have been having a lot of fun all week while I’ve been at the track, so how about we have some Paddy and Daddy time and read a story together?”

Aidan grinned, leaning over the side of the bed to grab a bag of Patrick’s toys and books, grabbing a picture book at random before pulling himself back up to a sitting position. “Do you want to sit up for this?” he asked, pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to comfortably read it to their son while lying down.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, working with Aidan to get into a better position before getting Paddy situated in his lap. “Let’s see what book Da picked out.” He took the book from Aidan and looked at the front cover. “Wow, this book is all about a special little bunny named Peter Rabbit,” he said, talking to his son in an excited voice, like he had never heard of anything quite so fascinating, despite the fact he had read that exact story to his son at least ten times over the course of his short life. He glanced over at Aidan. “Why can’t anyone write cute children’s books about disabled fluffy animals?” he groused before changing back to his happy tone and starting to read aloud.

On Dean’s right, Aidan relaxed against the headboard and listened to the familiar story, as well as Patrick’s excited noises as he saw pictures and patted at the book with chubby hands. After a while though, the little boy clearly got bored and shoved at the book, trying to knock it away. Though Dean was strong, his lack of dexterity meant that the book easily tipped out of his hand and onto his legs, making his son giggle in delight.

“Getting tired of that story?” Dean asked, scooting Patrick up his chest with his right arm so that the boy could reach up and touch his face. “Me too, little buddy. How about we eat a little before nap time?” he suggested after quick glance at the clock. It was just a few minutes after noon, so they all needed a meal, and Patrick was due for a nap within the hour. “Do you want some mashed-up peas, sweetie? Maybe Da can feed you. I’d feed you, but my hands aren’t very good at that stuff. Da can feed you and himself in the time it takes me to feed myself,” he explained cheerfully. He looked over at his husband. “If that’s okay with you, babe.”

“Of course,” Aidan answered, pushing himself off the bed and into his wheelchair. “Do you want to move, or eat in bed? I can bring you something.”

Still holding Patrick comfortably in his lap, Dean answered, “Bed sounds good. No need to get me in and out of the chair all day. It’d be nice if it were easier to travel with the manual and the electric, but we can’t. Oh well!” he said to his son, who patted his cheek clumsily. “It’s hard enough to take a racing chair around, but two of Daddy’s everyday wheelchairs? Not a chance.” He kissed his son’s hand as it patted at his mouth. “I bet you’re going to start crawling soon, buddy. I’ve seen you watch Da when he scoots around on the floor, and you’re going to do that too. Isn’t that exciting?”

Across the room, Aidan sliced up cheese and an apple to put on a plate along with crackers for him and Dean to share, and then dug out a small jar of pureed carrots for Patrick. “Hope you don’t mind getting orange on you,” he called out to Dean, putting the plate, jar, and a spoon in his lap to take them over to the bed.

“A bib might help, Aid,” Dean pointed out, smiling. “We have a very messy child.” He moved Patrick around in his arms, moving him from sitting on his hip to in his lap, facing forward. “Okay, can you let Da feed you now?”

Patrick was happy to turn to Aidan when the Irishman said his name and made a few cooing noises, and he ate the food he was fed without too much of a fuss, though about a quarter of the carrots ended up on Dean’s t-shirt and jeans. He made it very clear when he was done, though, by flopping back onto his older father’s chest and shoving away the spoon.

Smiling, Aidan put the spoon down and turned to his own food. “I can’t believe what a messy eater you are, Paddy. We’re going to have to hose your Daddy off before we can go get dinner.” He used the tiny bit of the bib that wasn’t covered in orange goo to wipe off Patrick’s face—an uphill battle if he’d ever seen one—though he was pretty sure he just spread the mess instead of cleaning it. “Oh, bug, you’re going to need a bath after we finish lunch.”

Dean finished off the last of his lunch, and then laughed a little. “Thanks to me, he also has cracker crumbs in his hair,” he informed his husband. “I think I can get away without a shower if we change my clothes, but we’ll definitely need to wash this little guy.” He leaned back into the headboard, and Patrick continued with him, propped on his stomach. “For now, let’s change his sleeper and get him into bed, and then I should probably go to the bathroom and change my clothes.”

“Can we get ready for a nap, bug?” Aidan asked, gently lifting Patrick off of Dean. “We’ll change your nappy and your sleeper, and then you can sleep so that you won’t be all fussy tonight,” he explained, going through the motions easily as he changed his son and gently rocked him off to sleep. Getting him in and out of the crib was harder without Luke, but the brunet pushed himself up to balance on his stumps and lowered Patrick onto the mattress before getting back to sit correctly in his chair. “Clean clothes?” he asked Dean, holding up a t-shirt and a fresh pair of jeans for his husband’s approval.

“Yeah,” Dean replied, letting himself list to the left side tiredly. “Are you going to start doing weekends in Ireland to practice soon?” He knew that it was necessary for Aidan to start practicing with the national team again in order to prepare for the Tokyo qualifying rounds, but he also knew that weekends without Aidan would be tough. Yet again, there was a question of finances: how would they pay for Luke to do weekends as well?

Aidan shrugged. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I’m pretty sure Irish murderball won’t make it to Tokyo, and with Patrick, it might make sense to retire,” he said, transferring onto the bed to help his husband change clothes. “I’d still play recreationally and all, but I don’t know if I should spend practically every weekend back in Ireland. It was a fluke that we made it to Rio, and I don’t think we’re strong enough to get to Tokyo. I love rugby, but I can play that in London and spend more time at home.”

“You really want to retire from rugby?” Dean asked, still processing the information.

“I think so. I like my job at the bank, and I’m not going to throw away weekends that could be spent with my family on the snowball’s chance in hell that is Ireland qualifying for Tokyo. I’m happy to play for fun.” The younger man gently guided his husband’s arm through the sleeve on his messy t-shirt to pull it over his head. “If I’m just doing rec league, I can be around more for your care. We can scale back a bit on paid care, which would be good for our bank account, because without practices I’m just doing a nine-to-five, you know? You’d mostly just need Luke for work and practice, instead of doing mornings and evenings, because I’d be around for that. We wouldn’t have to travel for my matches and tournaments, and, look, I’ve been thinking about it for a bit and was going to bring it up when we got back to London. I want to retire from the Irish team, and scale back to a less competitive team than Orlando’s.”

It was a lot to take in, but Dean nodded. “As long as it’s what you really want, babe,” he said softly, working on the button of his jeans. “I don’t want you to give it up because you feel like you’re inconveniencing me or whatever by going to Ireland on weekends.”

Aidan shook his head. “It’s not that. I play a team sport, so it’s hard to schedule practice around our lives, and I work full-time in an office. I can’t give up my weekends with Paddy. I’ll go to Tokyo, but just to watch you.” He kissed Dean’s chest before helping him slide his clean t-shirt on. “You’re gorgeous and perfect, did I mention that recently?” he said cheekily.

“Once or twice,” Dean replied, grinning. Aidan had spent the past week praising him after every single win, even when he had told the younger man that it was getting a little much. “We’ll have to talk to Luke about his hours, then. I don’t know if he’s going to stay on if his hours are cut, ‘cause that’s going to reduce his income.”

The younger man moved down the bed a little to tug Dean’s jeans off. “We’ll make it work,” he said, sounding sure of himself. “We’ve been making it work for over two years, and we aren’t half-bad at it. Did you want to go pee?” he asked suddenly, remembering his husband mentioning something about that earlier.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean answered, having gotten distracted. “Let’s just finish with the jeans, and then bathroom.” Now that they were focused on dressing, rather than Aidan’s plan to retire from professional rugby, it was a quick process. “Man, now I have to transfer. So much work,” he complained in a good-natured tone.

“Your life is just super hard,” Aidan agreed teasingly, sliding into his wheelchair before shifting around to help Dean get into his without much trouble. “How’s your arm-function doing today?” he asked as he followed the older man into the bathroom.

Before giving a verbal answer, Dean just groaned. “I’m surprised I managed to eat lunch by myself. It’s mostly hands. My shoulders can deal with constant racing, but wearing those gloves practically all day is pretty bad for me,” he explained as he and Aidan managed a shaky move onto the toilet, and he pulled himself up with a hand on the transfer bar and a hand on the counter, and Aidan got his pants down. “I should start going back to occupational therapy,” he said, trying to stretch his fingers and failing, even on the right side.

“Back?” Aidan echoed. “You haven’t gone to OT since we’ve been together. Or, at least, since I moved over,” he corrected himself.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled, looking a little guilty. “I did a lot of it for a few months after the accident, obviously, and then I kept it up every few weeks most of the time until Rio. I sort of fell off the occupational therapy wagon when I moved to London. I was caught up in work, training, getting a new PCA, dating… finding an OT just sort of fell through the cracks. I mostly have good function; OT just prevented me from having days like this where my hands refuse to work.”

“Does the pump not help?” Aidan asked; he knew the baclofen pump mostly just worked on Dean’s legs, but he remembered hearing or reading somewhere that the effects could make a difference in the upper body as well, albeit with reduced efficacy compared to below the pump.

Dean shook his head. “Not enough. It makes a bit of a difference overall, because I had a little less hand function on the right side before I got it, but I still seize up sometimes. Mostly from the gloves,” he admitted. “My athleticism comes back to bite me in the arse sometimes.”

“The gold medals probably help you get over that,” Aidan teased gently, moving to brush his teeth as he waited for his husband to pee. Dean’s bladder was, like all of his muscles, spastic, and it often took a while for him to pee, needing to press on his bladder to make it happen. “You only have three events this coming week, right?” he asked through a mouth of toothpaste. It still felt strange to Aidan that, for Dean, doing three events in a week was described with the word “only.”

“Yeah,” the older man answered, finally managing to start peeing. “And the 10k is last, which works out well. I’m going to need a lot of time to rest after that. See, that’s why Tatyana needs to stop telling me to do marathons. Those are 26.2 miles, and the 10k is hell on me but is still only a little over six miles.”

Aidan laughed a little as he spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. “I can’t imagine doing a marathon. I know that the best wheelchair racers tend to finish in, like, an hour and a half, but I’m pretty sure I would die going really hard for that long. Plus they’re all T54s, so it would be even longer for you.”

“Yeah, and I think it would be frustrating. I’m really competitive, and I wouldn’t like constantly coming in behind others because I’m more impaired,” Dean admitted. “It’s not an event in the Paralympics, so you race in regular marathons in the wheelchair category, so you compete against all wheelchair racers. I’d lose consistently to the T54s, and, frankly, I’m not a fan of losing. I mean, Josh George is T53 and wins, but he’s been training in them for years.”

“Plus, if you did marathons, you’d have to train even more than you do now,” Aidan pointed out, helping Dean pull his pants up before assisting in the transfer back to his power chair. He moved out of the way so that the older man could wash his hands, but he kept talking. “There’s nothing wrong with hating losing when it’s because of completely uneven impairments. You’re not losing because of skill or training or whatever, but because everyone else has arm and ab function that you don’t.” He left the bathroom with Dean trailing behind him, power chair humming quietly. “Want to get back in bed or no?”

Dean shrugged. “I think I can stay in my chair for a while,” he answered. “I want to help with Paddy’s bath, so I’ll wait until we’re done with that to get back in bed. I’d suggest watching television to relax, but neither of us speak German so that would be pointless.”

Smiling sweetly, Aidan slid out of his wheelchair and into Dean’s lap, resting his head on the older man’s shoulder and sighing contently. “As hot as it is for you to win literally all of the T52 track events, I miss being able to cuddle with you every night. I mean, obviously, you’re still in bed with me, but you’re so tired that you fall asleep almost immediately. When we get home, we’re going to have sex every night for as many nights as we can. Because, seriously, I am married to a world record holder so why _wouldn’t_ I fuck him every time I can?” He turned his head a little and kissed Dean’s neck. “Seriously, there is something as super hot about having a world record dick inside me.”

“You know my dick wasn’t what set the record, right?” Dean asked with an amused expression. “I’m starting to think you only married me for my medals, you pervert.”

“I’d love you without the medals, but, you know, it’d be pretty hot if you wore them in bed some night,” Aidan said, thoughtfully, receiving a gentle poke to the stomach for that comment. “Do you want some massage therapy, babe? It might help your hands be better by Monday. You race on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday, right?” he asked, not completely sure of Dean’s schedule.

The older man nodded. “Yes to both. My hands could use a rub, and that is my racing schedule,” he specified, groaning happily when Aidan took his left hand and began to massage the tight muscles with a loving but firm touch. “I love you,” he said conversationally after a couple minutes. “I’m exhausted and I’m going to be a mess next week as well, but I fucking love you.”

Aidan leaned in and pressed a relatively platonic kiss to his husband’s lips. “If you need to just sleep and ignore me and Paddy in the coming week, that’s okay. We’d love to see you, but it’s hard to race as much as you’re doing right now and have family time. You can just kiss him before bed every night and I’ll feed him and everything.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, smiling. “I hope I can do more, but we’ll have to see.”


	40. Sports? Sports

“I am literally going to spew,” Dean muttered to Manu, who was on a chair a few feet away from him. “Just turn my head and spew all over the ground.”

Manu rolled his eyes. “You’ll be fine. You’ve done this distance before. That American guy is good, but you’ve won six events at this fucking competition. He doesn’t have any medals, and you have five golds. You know your pacing, you know how to get through this fucking race. Pace is good, but you are _better_. Have you seen the articles written about you? Have you seen your Wikipedia page? You are called the best male wheelchair racer alive right now. You and McFadden are probably tied for best racer in the world, and this guy isn’t.” He scooted his chair closer to the other man; a bit of a process, as he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic due to soreness. “This is your last race, so you can give it literally everything you have, and then go home and have time with your husband and kid.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed. “Okay, yeah. I’ve done this distance before. I can do it again, I’ve just got to keep a level head.” He looked up at his friend, knowing that he only had a couple minutes before he had to go up to the starting line. “Rugby does the haka, and we don’t have much. Woo, yeah, New Zealand, kick some arse, go home, root the husband, be awesome.”

“Good plan,” Manu said with a grin, clapping Dean on the shoulder encouragingly. “Go over to your coach, and I’ll see you after. You’re a fucking champion, and you can do this.” Once the blond had rolled away, he picked his prosthetic off the ground and put it back on so that he could move off to the spectator area and sit next to Aidan, Luke, and Patrick.

Aidan was bouncing Patrick on his lap, the little boy dressed in his New Zealand outfit once more, when Manu sat down next to him. “He looks stressed,” the Irishman commented, having been watching his husband for the past ten minutes. “Did he seem anxious?”

“Yeah,” Manu answered, tickling Patrick’s stomach and smiling. “That Pace guy is good, and I think the fact he barely won the five k is getting to him. I think he’s also feeling like he can’t break his winning streak, since he’s won all six of his previous events. He’s going to be good, though.”

“Eem!” Patrick interrupted, flailing his tiny hands at Manu’s large ones as the New Zealander’s tickling became too much.

Soothing Patrick with gentle rubs to his back, Aidan nodded. “He always gets a little freaked out before a race. I think it’s got a bit to do with the disparity of what he can do on the track versus what he can do at home. Getting ready before a race is not independent, and I think it takes a moment for him to get into the mindset of dominating the track.” He lifted his son up a little and kissed his cheek with a smack, making the little boy laugh. “Do you think Daddy is going to be the best today? Because I do.”

Manu shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s a change in mindset, or just pre-competition jitters like a lot of people. I guess you do know him better than I do, though,” he admitted. He stopped talking, however, as the racers started lining up. Dean was in one of the middle lanes, whereas Pace was in the outermost lane. Manu could see his friend taking deep breaths as he got into a starting position, and when the starting gun went off, he was going hard.

As Aidan watched, trying to keep Patrick from getting too bored and fussy, Dean quickly gained a lead and led the pack in the innermost lane, but Pace was right behind him. The athletes all settled into their race paces, with longer strokes and a slower pace than the initial sprint. Ten kilometers was a long fucking way to go, and Aidan couldn’t imagine doing it. “Look, bug, there’s Daddy!” he said, pointing forward as Dean finished up his first lap. “There he is in the front!”

Luke leaned forward in his seat, his elbows rest on his knees as he watched the race, eyebrows knitted together. In his idea of hell, he would have to run around the track ten times, and this was way more than that. He was stressed just _watching_ this; he couldn’t dream of how Dean was feeling doing it.

One of the reasons that Dean did distance as well as sprints was that is was actually kind of zen. He could settle into a pace and tune things out most of the time; if someone tried to pass, he would notice quickly, but most of each lap was spent concentrating on his breath and singing his workout mix to himself in his head. It was still grueling, but he didn’t have to think about it constantly. His movements were smooth, calculated, and completely automatic; he checked in on himself regularly to fix anything that wasn’t working, but he could still just get in his zone and push on.

“Okay, that’s, like, a quarter done,” Manu said after a while, keeping track of how far they had gone. “He’s doing well so far. God only knows how he’s managing to keep going like this for so long.”

Aidan lifted Patrick a little bit so that he could see the track. “Look at who’s still in the lead, bug! That’s Daddy!” he exclaimed, lowering his son into his lap and smiling as the little boy clapped his pudgy hands together. “You’re doing a good job cheering for Daddy,” he said cheerfully, splitting his attention between keeping Patrick engaged and watching Dean’s race. “Okay, never tell him I said this, but these races get a little boring to watch,” he muttered to Luke, who grinned a little. “It’s just so long around this track. Again, and again, and again…”

Patrick twisted in his father’s arms, making the Irishman hold him a little tighter to keep him secure. “Ah-ah-ah-ah!” he whined, tugging at the brunet’s shirt in a desperate plea for attention.

“I know, bug, you need someone to play with you,” Aidan acknowledged, digging his son’s blanket out of the diaper bag and handing it to him. “Manu, do you think you can reach into there and pull out a toy?” he asked, unable to bend down far enough to reach the bottom of the bag while holding Patrick. “It doesn’t matter which one, he just needs something.”

Easily able to take a break from watching the long race, Manu bent down in his seat and rifled through the bag for a moment before pulling out a squishy, bright toy that had a mirror on one side. “This good?”

“He loves looking at himself, so yeah,” Aidan said cheerfully, putting the toy in Patrick’s small lap. It immediately rolled off of his stumps and onto Aidan’s, but it was still within his reach. “Oh, crap,” he muttered as he looked back up to the race. “Freaking Pace just passed him.”

Luke and Manu immediately looked up, surprised that Dean had fallen just behind the American racer. “He’s got a lot of time get back ahead,” Luke pointed out, though his hands were twisting worriedly between his knees. “How did you survive Rio?” he asked Aidan. “This is stressful enough.”

“I wasn’t married to him in Rio. Your one-month fling racing is cool, but your husband racing has way higher stakes, emotionally,” Aidan answered, glancing down as Patrick flopped back against his stomach, looking a little tired as he rubbed his blanket against his face. “Okay, bug, can you maybe stay awake for a little bit to watch Daddy? If you can’t, that’s okay. We can leave so you can sleep.”

“I’ll take him out if he needs to sleep,” Luke said, nudging Aidan’s thigh with his knee. “You should be able to watch through the end of the race.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said gratefully. “He’s doing pretty well. I think he’s mostly just bored, but the race shouldn’t be _that_ much longer. Right? Oh, man, I haven’t really watched Dean do anything this long. Why does he do this to himself? Why?” he groaned. “Daddy is a masochist,” he informed Patrick, lifting him up to kiss him and blow a raspberry against his cheek.

Manu laughed. “It’s good that you’re emphasizing a core vocabulary for your kid,” he told Aidan, not taking his eyes off the track. “Let me know if you want me to hold him at any point,” he added, glancing a little at Patrick, who seemed pretty happy in his father’s arms. “As cute as babies are, I’m pretty happy my kids aren’t that young anymore.”

“Do you know Pace’s disability?” Luke asked distractedly, clearly more focused on the race than on what the other men were saying.

“Either CP or he’s got an upper-level partial SCI like Dean,” Aidan answered, unsure. He hadn’t looked the American up on the internet over the weekend, but there weren’t a ton of disabilities that ended up in the T52 category. “Even if Dean beats him here, they’re going to be two of the major distance men in Tokyo, at least in their category.” He lifted Patrick up to his shoulder and rocked him, trying to keep him calm without giving up too much of his attention on the track. “Manu, how close to done are they?” he asked.

“They’ve done fifteen laps of the twenty-five,” the Kiwi answered. “Dean’s probably going to pass soon, because he’ll break out of his race pace for the last couple laps before his final sprint on the last straightaway.” Although he was a sprinter, Manu knew a fair amount about endurance racing just from hanging out with his teammates.

Aidan nodded, kissing Patrick gentle as he jiggled him. “Okay, bug, let’s just keep happy for a little longer for Daddy,” he wheedled, staring at his husband as the blond pushed hard on his handrims.

With five laps left, Dean pushed out into second lane from the middle as soon as he finished the corner and shoved himself harder to pass Pace, panting harshly as he managed to cut him off at the start of the next turn. He had no idea how the American was at the longest track distance, but, at the very least, he would learn about the younger man was at the ten kilometer event so that he could train against him for Tokyo. “Breathe,” he muttered to himself, attacking the straightaway with his brow creased in a determined expression.

“Good pass, babe,” Aidan said under his breath, chewing his lip a little with stress. “Come on, just a little while longer. You’ve got this.”

Luke smiled to himself as he heard Aidan talking to Dean softly, as if the older man could hear him. “He’s getting some distance between him and Pace,” he said, a little surprised that he sounded like he understood sports, “and he’s good at the final sprint.”

Manu nodded, focused on trying to beam some good thoughts toward his teammate. “I’ve never watched him at this distance,” he admitted. “He looks like he’s got the endurance for this, but those last couple laps are going to decide this shit.”

Patrick patted his hands on Aidan’s back, drooling a little on his father’s shoulder as he watched the people sitting behind them. He smiled, his little gums showing, when the Irishman turned him back around to sit on his lap. “Ga-ga-ga!” he yelled excitedly, clapping his hands together. He liked the noise of the track most of the time, so used to it from watching his older father’s practices for the last four months, but he couldn’t hear it between being far from the track itself and the all the of yelling and talking from the fans.

“Are you having fun?” Luke asked, leaning toward Patrick to engage him so that Aidan could pay attention to the last few laps. “It’s almost done,” he explained. “And then in two days we get to go home and Daddy is going to take a bit of time off practice to recover and he’s going to spend all that time with you!”

“Come on,” Aidan mumbled, bouncing his stumps nervously and making his son giggle happily. At least the little boy was still entertained and occupied and not sobbing. “That’s it, babe,” he added, watching Dean round the curve into the final lap with Pace close behind him. “There we go.”

Dean broke out into a full sprint, knowing that he’d have a week off after this to recover and thus having no reason to hold back. He refused to lose this, and he ignored the way his shoulders burned. He panted for breath, rounding the curve and hearing Pace pop out of the lane as they hit the straightaway, knowing that the other man wanted to pass him or even just get up a few inches in front of him, but if he could keep his lead for the whole straightaway, the other man would have to go some extra distance on the final curve.

“Ahm!” Patrick yelped, tugging Aidan’s hair in a demand for attention.

“A few more seconds, bug,” the Irishman said distractedly, knowing that Patrick would be okay for a couple more moments so that he could watch Dean get to the end. “Daddy’s working really hard and we need to clap for him.”

Dean hit the curve neck and neck with Pace, pretty sure that the front wheels of their chairs were dead even. He chewed at his lip, letting the pain keep him focused as he gave it his all, because fuck this, he was not going to lose his final race after winning all of the others. He had a little less distance than Pace, so he just had to keep up this hellish sprint. “Yes,” he muttered to himself, closing up the final couple meters with tears stinging in his eyes from the wind.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Manu muttered, not worrying about swearing in front of Patrick because the kid was a good six months away from his first word. “You’ve got this, you’ve got this… yes!” he screamed, jumping up in excitement as Dean rolled over the finish line with his front wheel barely a foot in front of Lee’s.

“Thank God,” Aidan whispered, sinking back into his chair in relief as he watched Dean raise his hands in celebration before hitting his brake and slowing down. “Paddy, look at your daddy,” he said, pointing forward. “He won! Can you clap for Daddy when you see him?” he asked.

Dean felt like death, but it felt like a damn good win to pull it off by so little; it meant that he had just had probably the closest competition of his life, and he had won. “Oh man,” he groaned, looking over at Pace. “I’m going to have to train like a motherfucker to go against you in Tokyo.”

Lee felt frustrated with losing when he had gotten so close, but nearly beating Dean fucking O’Gorman was an accomplishment. The man had five golds and had just taken first place in literally every distance at the Grand Prix. “Me too,” he replied, smiling. “I’ve got to go hard so that you’ll get the silver instead of gold.”

“Bring it on,” Dean panted, grinning widely and giving the other man a nod before peeling off toward his coach. He had won all his events, and he had competed in every single distance he could. “I’m going to go sleep for a million years,” he said by way of greeting.

His coach was staring at him. “Do you know what you just did?”

“Uh, nearly killed myself to pull off a win?”

“Dean, that’s another world record.”

The blond put his hands on his knees and shoved his torso up, completely surprised. He hadn’t had any idea, but he knew it was the intense competition with Pace that had gotten him just fast enough. “Shit yeah,” he managed, blinking as he processed the information. “Hey!” he said excitedly when he saw Aidan pulling up with Patrick in his lap. The little boy was clapping and smiling, and Dean felt like crying in happiness. “Guess who just set another world record?”

“Hot,” Aidan said, grinning as he leaned down to kiss Dean’s sweaty forehead. “Let’s head back to the hotel to shower and freaking sleep. I’m so proud of you,” he added softly, touching his forehead to his husband’s. “You’ve worked so hard and you deserve this win and this record.”

“Love you,” Dean replied, grinning. “I’m going to go talk to people really fast and then come back and get in my power chair and I can go back to the hotel to rest because holy shit I’m tired.” He turned around and headed over to waiting cameras and IPC and New Zealand reporters. When asked how he felt, he smiled blissfully. “It’s great. Pace gave me a huge run for my money, and that was what pushed me hard enough to make that world record. I’m going to have a lot of fun going against him in Tokyo,” he said. “I’m proud of myself, and I’m glad my husband and kid were here to see me do this. Winning all seven distances in this couple of weeks has been really hard, but it was worth it. I know I’m the first person who has done this, and I’m still kind of in shock that I managed it.”

“Congratulations,” one of the New Zealand reporter said, smiling, and the others said similar things before taking a couple pictures and letting him go away to get back into his power chair and finally rest.

Dean felt like he was about to fall asleep as Luke lifted him into his chair. Usually he would try to help with the transfer, but he was far too exhausted. “We’ll see if I can stay awake for a shower,” he groaned, falling back into the comfortable back of his chair as he pushed the joystick with his stiff hand.

“I probably won’t see you before you go back to London, so good fucking job, and I’ll Skype with you sometime soon,” Manu said, leaning down to hug his friend before leaving him with his family and PCA to go collapse.

With his eyelids heavy, Dean rolled off to the locker room. “Let’s just rinse off here before I put my regular clothes back on,” he told Luke, who nodded in understand. “I want to be able to fall asleep the second we get back to the hotel, and I don’t want to get my cushion and back gross with all this sweat,” he explained, letting the other man undress him and get him into the shower. “I’m going to take a week off of training and just work a few hours a day so that I can just cuddle my kid and read him little picture books. And root my husband,” he added with a satisfied smile.

“You deserve it,” Luke said honestly. “Fuck that man hard.” He was close enough to Dean to talk so casually to him about sex, even if he didn’t like to hear all the details. “Maybe on the plane we can figure out my hours next week, yeah? I know you’ll be tired and sore and need a lot the first few days, but if you want to spend your time with Patrick, I’m cool doing a little less.”

Dean nodded, letting the lukewarm water cool down his body. His face and a bit of his torso were sweaty, but his injury made much of his body unable to sweat, and he knew that he needed the somewhat chilly water to get his temperature back to normal. “I’ll do some planning with Aid and we’ll let you know,” he answered, sinking back against the wall of the shower as Luke soaped him up and washed his hair as quickly as possible. “Thanks,” he said as the Welshman turned off the water and got him back into his chair. “Do you think I can sleep for eighteen hours straight?”

“You can at least try,” Luke said placidly as he helped Dean dry off and then got his track pants, t-shirt, and jacket. “I’m sure Aidan will wake you up for dinner, but otherwise you can sleep for as long as you fucking want.” With the blond so tired, he basically did all the work in dressing him, but he didn’t mind. He would want help getting dressed after working out that hard, and he didn’t have the mobility and dexterity problems that Dean did.

“Okay, bed,” Dean muttered when he was dressed. “Bed is good,” he added, leaving the locker room and meeting Aidan outside, where he was talking softly to Patrick as the little boy started to fall asleep.

“Let’s go back and let you sleep,” Aidan said quietly, giving Dean a loving kiss now that his face wasn’t absolutely covered in sweat. “I’ll let Patrick snuggle you for the couple minutes it’ll take you to fall asleep and then put him in the crib,” he said as they started to leave the track facility and head back to their hotel. “I’m so proud of you, gorgeous. You now have two world records, an impossibly amazing winning record from Rio and this, and an adoring family. You are living the dream, babe,” he said with a large smile.

Dean laughed quietly. “It’ll feel more like the dream once I have some sleep,” he replied. Letting his head rest against the headrest of his chair, he pressed lazily against his joystick and let himself just rest. “Paddy, are you excited for a whole week with Daddy at home with you?” he asked, not caring that his son was asleep as he talked to him.

“He’s going to love it,” Aidan said, knowing that Patrick didn’t get a lot of alone time with Dean. “I know kids don’t form their first memories until they’re, like, three, but he’s still going to appreciate it.”

Leaning forward a tiny bit to look at his son in the stroller, Dean smiled tiredly. “I’ll appreciate it too, buddy.”


	41. Home Again Home Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got my baclofen pump put in last week, and after a rocky few days, I'm feeling pretty good. This little fucker is going to improve my life! Yay life improvement!
> 
> Now have some cute family time followed by porn :)

“Paddy, sweetie, aren’t you happy to be home?” Dean asked cheerfully as he rolled through the door after Aidan, who detached the stroller from his wheelchair and took Patrick out and handed him over to the little boy’s older father. “How about you and I snuggle in mine and Da’s bed? I think we’ll ask Da to unpack, because you’ve got one exhausted Daddy.” It was just the three of them, as they had dropped Luke off at his apartment on the way back to their own home.

Aidan grinned, kissing Dean’s cheek. “You deserve a break,” he assured the older man. “And then when that little guy goes to bed tonight, you’re going to get something else you really, really deserve,” he added in a stage whispered, biting gently at his husband’s jaw. “Oh, man, you should get excited because I have some big plans.”

With a grin, Dean nodded and steered over to the bedroom. “When you have a sec, I’d like to get a lift onto the bed,” he called out, lifting Patrick onto his hip and jiggling him a bit. “Do you know something exciting? Uncle Luke is only coming over to help Daddy shower in the evenings, because Da’s going to get me up every day. We’re going to spend every day this week together, just the two of us. We don’t do that a lot, do we? But I want to spend time with my little guy, because it’s so important to me that we get to be together the way able-bodied parents do with their babies. You aren’t going to miss out on anything just because Daddy’s SCI is so high up,” he explained with a big smile, kissing his son’s chubby cheek as the infant giggled happily in his arms.

Aidan came into the room, one of their suitcases in his lap. They had a fair amount of unpacking to do; he had already put Dean’s racing chair in a corner of the living room, but they had a suitcase that had most of their clothes, and one with the rest of their own things and all of Patrick’s clothes, toys, and other various things. He put the suitcase down, stuck their son in the basinet for a moment and got Dean on the bed, kissing him sweetly before putting Patrick in his arms. “You two have fun while Da gets everything unpacked. I think I’ll do laundry tomorrow night,” he added to his husband; they had a fair amount of clothes to wash, but he was tired and the laundry machine was in their building’s basement. Dean’s lack of dexterity made doing laundry practically impossible, and without Luke around, it was up to Aidan to do it; he didn’t mind, but he was fucking tired so laundry wasn’t going to happen that day.

“Thanks, babe,” Dean said with a smile, playing with Patrick as the little boy clapped in his lap. He noticed Aidan unpacking out of the corner of his eye, but he focused on their son. “Paddy, do you want to know a special story about how Daddy became a wheelchair user?” he asked. He had decided, from the moment that he and Aidan had chosen to adopt, that his accident would never be a secret. There was no shame in the story, and while recovery had been terrible, he never would have had the life he did without it. Shit, how could that not be worth the pain? “Six years ago, Daddy was driving home from work, and someone came around a corner at over seventy kilometers an hour and hit his car _really_ hard. The car crumpled, like when you ball up paper to throw it away, and Daddy was still inside. His neck broke, but some of his spine was still together. After a lot of time in the hospital, he got out and learned how to use a racing chair. Then he went to Rio and that’s where he met Da. That’s why we have a beautiful little boy. That’s you!” he added, smiling widely. “Daddy is very, very happy that he got hit by that car, because you and Da are the best people in the whole wide world.”

“And Daddy is the best athlete in the world,” Aidan butted in, stopping by the bed to kiss their son’s fluffy hair.

Patrick squirmed a little to turn over in his older father’s arms; he loved clutching the fabric of his dads’ shirts in his little hands, and rubbing his cheek on the smoothness of a t-shirt or the softness of flannel. He mumbled a few small noises, but mostly just stuck to nestling into his daddy’s warm chest.

“Aww, buddy, I love you too,” Dean said softly. Whenever Patrick cuddled up with him, patting his face or grabbing his shirt or hair, he felt a rush of delight in his gut. His son couldn’t say a word, couldn’t pull himself around on the floor, was half a year from getting his first wheelchair and prostheses, but he clearly loved both of his parents. “Are you feeling sleepy? I know you slept on the plane, but you stayed up a lot over the past couple weeks to watch Daddy race, and traveling makes everybody tired, but I bet especially tiny little guys like you.”

Smiling, Patrick put a chunk of his older father’s shirt in his mouth to chew it. Unlike able-bodied infants, he couldn’t stick his feet in his mouth for fun, due to his lack of feet and legs in general, so he made do with what he had. “Gahp!” he yelled out, dropping the shirt from his mouth to make noise, just for the pure joy of hearing his own voice.

Dean smiled, because he liked hearing his son babble, even if he couldn’t say a single word yet. “That’s right, sweetie,” he agreed cheerfully. “Okay, just start sniffling or crying if you need a change, but you can go to sleep on my chest if you want. On the other hand, if you don’t sleep right now, maybe you’re going to sleep really well tonight, which Da and I would appreciate. He’s got some great plans,” he said in a stage whisper. The nice thing about having a young baby was that he could just kind of mutter to him about sex, because he couldn’t understand. “You know, you were really good while we were in Germany. I’m proud of you for being so well behaved, even with people you’d never met before, like Manu and Jed.”

Patrick cheerfully licked his father’s shirt, enjoying the texture of flannel against his tongue.

Looking up from the suitcase that he was unpacking, Aidan saw his absurdly cute little family, and he pulled out his phone to take a picture. He knew that Dean would be happy to post it on his Facebook sometime that week. The blond loved showing off his adorable son to his many followers on the internet. “He was really good over our vacation,” he agreed. “Well, it was a vacation for me and Paddy, it was basically absurdly hard work for you,” he corrected himself.

“Maybe this week we can let him try ice cream for the first time as his little reward,” Dean suggested, smiling. “Little man, you don’t know how great life becomes when you can finally eat ice cream. You won’t get it much, because we’re a healthy family that likes vegetables and protein more that sweets, but you get to try some soon, okay?”

Patrick cheerfully drooled all over Dean’s shirt, soaking through it. His father didn’t notice, though, as it was on his left side, where he had pretty much no sensation other than simple touch.

“Aid?”

“Mm?”

“Okay, this is apropos of nothing, but does ‘paddy wagon’ come from people being a dick about Irish people?”

Aidan turned around to Dean, surprised at the weird question. “I don’t know. It could be. There’s the giant stereotype of Irish people being a bunch of drunks, and if paddy wagons were mostly used to transport people to the drunk tank, it could definitely have come from people associating the Irish with getting arrested for drunk and disorderly.” He shrugged. “I’m not an expert in these things. It’s kind of weird to me that people used ‘paddies’ to refer to Irish people, since that’s from one freaking name, but whatever.”

“Pa!” Patrick yelled happily.

Dean smiled ecstatically. “Yeah, Paddy. That’s you! Good job. I was hoping for Dada, but we’ll go with Pa. I’m so proud that you’re learning your own name. Next up is ‘no’ so that you’ll learn what not to do. That’s important for safety.”

“I’m going to tell my ma that Paddy kind of sort of tried to say his name today,” Aidan said cheerfully. “He’s a smart little bug, isn’t he?” He moved over to the bed to kiss Patrick in congratulations. The suitcase he had been unpacking was empty, and he put it in the closet before getting the other one and dragging it into the room. “So much freaking laundry,” he muttered, tossing most of the clothes directly into the hamper. Most of what was truly unpacked and put away was actually toiletries rather than clothing. Even Patrick’s clothes went right into the hamper, while the extra diapers and other supplies and toys were set aside to put away soon. “Do you want to shower or anything?” he asked his husband.

Dean shook his head. “I’ll wait until tomorrow and shower with Luke,” he answered. “I can make dinner for you in a couple hours, if you want,” he added, feeling a little guilty that Aidan had done all of the unpacking.

“Love, you did a ten k two days ago,” Aidan said, looking rather unimpressed with his husband. “You aren’t doing anything except playing with our kid and banging me today.” He decided that he’d rather finish unpacking all at once, because he knew he’d lose motivation to put things away. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes. Yell if you need anything,” he told Dean before piling Patrick’s things on his lap and heading over to the nursery. He put toys, extra diapers, and related things away reasonably quickly and then dragged the car seat and stroller in there for easy storage. He put the leftover formula and jarred baby food back in the kitchen before heading back into the bedroom, where Dean was talking softly to Patrick about his life back in New Zealand.

Patrick looked up when he heard the door close behind Aidan, and his face lit up, but he didn’t reach for him, clearly content to hold on to his older father’s’ shirt pocket tightly.

“How are your hands and shoulder, babe?” Aidan asked, looking at Dean’s spastic hands and worrying.

The older man shrugged. “Hands kind of suck, but shoulders aren’t too bad. I still don’t want to do too much work tonight, so it’s going to be all you.”

Aidan grinned. “Oh, that was already the plan,” he purred. “You’re going to lie there and get rewarded for all that hard work back in Berlin.” He kissed Dean’s forearm, which was exposed from rolled back sleeves. “You’re the best.”

“Mm, I love you,” Dean said dreamily. “Can we have an early night tonight? I want to go to sleep pretty early, and we need some extra time to root.”

“It’s a little extra hot when you say ‘root’ in that New Zealand-y way,” Aidan said with a grin, transferring up to the bed easily to curl against Dean’s side and tickle Patrick gently. He leaned down to lift his son’s tiny t-shirt and blew a raspberry on his stomach, happy to hear his son laugh happily.

Dean sighed happily, feeling absolutely exhausted but content. He put his left arm over Patrick to hold him safely on his chest and got his phone off of the bedside table with his right. After sliding and typing in a numerical password, he opened up the Facebook app and looked at his notifications. His page had some new likes, and a fair amount of people had written congratulatory messages for him; he’d love to thank everyone, but there were too many messages for that, especially with his tight hand muscles. Instead, he typed out a cheerful message about being back at home, relying on autocorrect to help him have a mostly proper sentence. He got his husband to snap a smiling selfie of the two of them side-by-side and Patrick on Dean’s chest and attached that before posting the whole thing. Finished with that, he put his phone back on the bedside table. “You know, Paddy, a lot of people who like me on the internet have commented that you’re a very cute little guy,” he informed his son.

“Of course they do,” Aidan said with a smile. He didn’t have a Facebook page like Dean did, but he had a personal one where he liked his husband’s page, and he always loved seeing the nice comments about their family. “He’s literally the cutest baby that has ever existed, obviously.”

“You’re definitely not biased in the slightest,” Dean teased, letting his head flop onto Aidan’s shoulder. “It is really great that my fans are so supportive of my family. I’ve never seen a rude comment about us being gay, or adopting a disabled baby, or our son being Asian, which I sort of worried about because some people are gigantic arseholes, especially on the internet. Basically everyone who likes me is really great, and I should compliment fans.”

Aidan made a bit of a face. “It’s kind of depressing that we feel kind of thankful for people not being dicks about our sexuality or our kid,” he said, but he still loved Dean’s fans. “I do love how much everyone on Facebook tells you how great you are, because I agree with them.” He kissed Dean’s cheek sweetly before stealing Patrick off his chest. The little boy was only wearing a t-shirt; with his tiny leg stumps, it was pretty much impossible to put true pants on him if they weren’t part of a sleeper. “There’s my big boy!” he said excitedly, pulling off his son’s tiny t-shirt as to expose his chubby tummy for tickling.

Patrick smiled widely at his father, still drooling a little all over. “Pa!” he yelled, clearly happy with his new sound. “Pa!”

Feeling proud, even though he knew that his son was just making random babbling noises rather than actually trying to say his own name, Aidan lifted Patrick above his head. “Such a smart little man!” he cooed, lowering the infant down to kiss his smiling face. “I think you’re definitely going to get a taste of ice cream for being well-behaved _and_ smart.”

Dean turned his head to check the clock. It was four, but he was exhausted. “How about we make dinner now and put this little guy to bed? He might wake up in the middle of the night, but we can probably get him back to sleep. I just need to eat, fuck, and go the hell to sleep.”

“Yeah, please,” Aidan agreed, sounding relieved at the request for an early night. “I’ll just throw together some pasta with vegetable, okay? You two lie here and snuggle,” he added, putting Patrick back on Dean’s chest. “Do you want a book or anything?” he asked as he slid into his wheelchair. When Dean shook his head, the younger man rolled out of the bedroom and to the kitchen.

Dean looked up from his son when his phone buzzed, and he saw that he had a text from Jonnie Peacock. Though the other man ran, rather than wheeled, on the track, they still had a friendship forged over a good number of practices together.

_Are you coming to practice tomorrow?_

With a snort, Dean texted back, _fuck u im dying bc of the 10k ill c u next wk._

_Someone’s stroppy._

Dean grinned and set his phone aside. “Daddy’s friends are silly, aren’t they? Daddy isn’t going back to practice for a week. The Grand Prix was very hard. I’m going to sleep for a week. Well,” he corrected himself, “I’m going to play with you, but I’m going to sleep a lot every night. No more staying up to watch a movie with Da or anything. Just playing with you all day, getting Luke to help me shower, and then going to sleep with Da. If you wake up kind of early, that’s okay. Da and I are getting up early because he’s getting me ready instead of Luke. We’re going to save money by having Luke work less this week. That money is going to help us buy your first wheelchair and prosthetics, and then the bigger ones. We’ll always make sure you have a wheelchair that fits, but prosthetics might stop after a few years, depending on what you choose. If you want to have prosthetics most of the time, you’ll keep getting ‘em and maybe have a wheelchair that isn’t made for full-time use. If you decide to be a wheelchair user like Da, though, we’ll just stick to getting you good wheelchairs while you get bigger,” he explained. Spending a fair amount of time with a pre-verbal baby made him explain everything on his mind in great detail, just because he kept up both sides of the conversation.

In the kitchen, Aidan put a pot of water on the stove to start heating it up before grabbing a bag of vegetables out of the freezer to steam in the microwave. He would definitely need to go to the supermarket the next day; leaving for two weeks meant that the fridge was basically empty, due to using up or throwing out any perishable foods before heading to Germany. He hummed to himself, knowing that he was terribly off-key, as he puttered around, getting everything out that he needed before simply sitting back to wait for the water to boil. He grabbed his phone and checked it, seeing a couple missed texts.

 _Tell Dean congratulations,_ read the one from his parents.

 _We can meet after practice on Saturday if that’s good._ That one came from Orlando, in response to him asking to get together to talk. He didn’t look forward to the conversation about quitting the team and stopping professional rugby, but he wanted to do it sooner rather than later, so that he wouldn’t keep spending time apart from his family for a sport he was retiring from.

After he had sent replies, Aidan went back to the bedroom to check on his husband and child, finding Patrick sleeping on Dean’s chest as the New Zealander read a book on his Kindle. “Hey,” he said quietly, looking up when he saw the younger man enter the room.

“Hey,” Aidan echoed, dropping a kiss on the blond man’s forehead. “I’m making pasta, but it’s going to take a bit of time for the water boil. Did he just fall asleep without rocking or anything?” he asked, nodded toward Patrick.

“Yeah. Guess he was exhausted,” Dean replied, putting his e-reader aside and smiling. “We can wake him up to eat when we do, but maybe he’ll sleep through the night. He’s getting better at that.”

Aidan nodded in agreement, reaching his hand out to stroke their son’s dark hair gently, not wanting to wake him just yet. “I’m going to talk to Orlando about quitting the team on Saturday, but I think I’ll let him know I’ll be skipping out on weekday practices this week so I can help you get dressed in the morning,” he said, making a mental note to send that text once he went back to the kitchen to cook the pasta and vegetables. “And then you’ll have a week of being alone with Paddy all day, which is probably just enough to start pulling out your hair.”

“Good thing my hands can’t grip my hair enough to pull it out,” Dean said cheerfully. “I don’t think that’s going to happen to me, though. People who get so frustrated all take staying at home with their kid for an extended period of time for granted, which, like, I don’t blame them for, because it’s easy for them. It’s not easy for me, though, and being able to do it is a huge deal. He could cry for a week straight and I’d still be ecstatic that I got to do it.”

“Okay, if he does cry for a week straight, I reserve the right to bring up this conversation when you’re at the end of the rope, just to say ‘I told you so’ like a dick,” Aidan replied, but he knew that Dean honestly would be grateful for the time with Patrick, regardless of how well the little boy behaved.

With a bit of a groan, Dean shifted his shoulders. Both were feeling a bit tired, even two days after the race. He kept his right arm on Patrick, but he managed to roll the joints out a little, getting a bit of pain relief from the simple movement. “Can I have some massage tonight, babe?” he asked hopefully. “Either before or after other activities,” he added with a wink.

“Of course,” Aidan answered immediately. “If you can go in and see the British team trainer for some actual massage therapy, I’d be happy to find time to drive you. It’s probably better than my flailing attempts that I figured out as a half-assed foreplay technique,” he admitted with a self-deprecating grin. “I mean, I can still use it as half-assed foreplay as well, if you ever want that. Mm, yeah, babe, fake-it-til-you-make-it massage therapy to warm you up for fucking,” he added in a low rumble.

Dean snorted. “I’ll ask Jonnie for some info on the team PTs and see if they can make time for me this week,” he promised. “I’ll take your ‘flailing attempts’ as often as you want to indulge me, though. Real massage therapy is great and all, but I’m pretty into getting rubbed down by a hot guy who I get to fuck.”

“I’m going to figure out dinner, okay? You two do your thing,” Aidan said, kissing Dean’s cheek before heading back into the kitchen to check on the water and figure out how to make the steamed frozen vegetables more exciting.

On the bed, Dean grabbed his phone once more. Aidan was right that he should get professional massage therapy, and he needed to find someone good. He opened up a group text with Jonnie and Hannah Crockett, and typed, _do u no if there is a team pt or massage person bc my muscles r rly tite._ His pre-injury self would have been horrified at his text-speak, but with limited hand dexterity, typing out full words and perfect sentences was a giant waste of time and effort. He was too tired to go back to do anything like read, because he wanted to keep any energy to be able to have sex that night. Instead, he continued to fool around on his phone. Though he wouldn’t have any hand movement left that night, he trusted that Aidan would do all the work in bed, so he happily typed out messages to his friends to ask how they were doing, seeing which of his Team NZ friends were home, and how his family was doing.

He knew that he and Aidan would do financial planning within a few weeks, but he still went on the internet to look at pediatric wheelchairs and prosthetics. Patrick would be seven months old in two days, so they wanted to buy his first mobility aids within the next four months. Dean tried not to wince at the prices; wheelchairs and prosthetics were expensive, and pediatric ones were no exceptions. Luckily, Aidan’s medical insurance from the bank was really good. “Oh, buddy, you’re going to get some very cute first wheels and legs,” he said softly. “I can’t wait to see you rolling around the kitchen and learning to stand up on the floor with Da.”

On his father’s chest, Patrick continued to sleep, uninterrupted by the New Zealander’s quiet voice.

After a little while, Aidan popped back into the room with a wide smile. “Dinner’s ready,” he said, rubbing Patrick’s back as he lifted him from his husband’s chest. “Okay, bug, we’re going to eat, so can you start waking up for me? I’ll get Daddy in his wheelchair and then get you all the way awake so you can have some dinner. I got you some peas.” While the little boy started blinking his eyes open, Aidan put him down in the basinet and turned to Dean, helping the older man slide into his waiting power chair.

“I can’t wait until that kid can move around on his own and I can use my manual,” Dean groaned, shoving himself up a little in his chair to adjust himself to a better sitting position. “Oh, somebody’s awake now,” he commented as he heard Patrick starting to babble in his basinet. “You sound happy, sweetie,” he said, watching as Aidan moved a couple feet and lifted their son back into his lap.

Patrick clutched the loose ends of his younger father’s sweatpants; the Irishman hadn’t tucked the cut-off ends under his thigh stumps like he usually did, and there was fabric hanging there for the little boy to play with. He made a distressed noise when no amount of tugging would bring the material up to put in his mouth. “Ah!” he yelled, clearly frustrated.

“Bug, I’ll give you a toy in a moment,” Aidan promised, rolling to the kitchen with one hand. “Those are staying on me for the time being, so you can stop pulling,” he added when Patrick continued to yank on his sweatpants. “Please, bug, don’t get too upset about it. I know you’re tired, but give me one minute,” he said in a soothing, albeit frazzled, tone as the little boy started to tear up.

Dean turned his chair around and went to the nursery to grab a toy before speeding to the kitchen, easily catching up to his family with the stilted way Aidan was rolling. “Paddy, here’s Buns,” he said softly, gently pulling his son’s hands off of Aidan’s pants and instead pushing the stuffed bunny into his grasp. “Just give us a few minutes awake so that you can eat before sleeping all night, okay?” He breathed out a sigh of relief when the infant pressed the rabbit to his face and forgot about Aidan’s pants. “There we go, sweetie,” he said, taking Patrick when Aidan held him out. “How about you sit in Daddy’s lap for dinner?” he suggested, pulling up next to the table, stroking his son’s hair with one hand as the little boy babbled animatedly at his stuffed rabbit.

Now that Patrick was out of his lap, Aidan was able to easily move around the kitchen, and he quickly brought the plates of pasta to the table, as well as a jar of mashed-up peas and a spoon for his son. “If he’s not eating well tonight, I’ll make him a bottle,” he said, looking down at Patrick, who was deeply preoccupied with his bunny. “He’s got to be exhausted.”

Nodding distractedly in agreement, Dean carefully wrapped his right hand around his fork and began to feed himself slowly, keeping his stiff left arm around Patrick to hold him close and secure. “He’s keeping pretty calm, though,” he told Aidan between bites. “I think he just couldn’t understand why he couldn’t move your sweats. He might be okay to eat his real food now that he’s calmed down with his bunny.”

“If you’re willing to be the one to take it away from him so he can eat, it’s a deal,” Aidan said, laughing a little as Dean grimaced; while he was a very good baby, sweet and as well-behaved as someone that young could be, he occasionally had little meltdowns when something was taken away from him, especially something sensory. “You know damn well it’d be worse if he got peas on it and we had to take it away until I manage to do laundry. His blanket’s already dirty, and Buns is the only thing close to being that soft, and you’re the one who’s going to be home with him all day tomorrow. Good luck without anything soft he can rub on his face.”

“I mean, if he can’t deal with having his bunny taken away, we can do the bottle,” Dean answered with a shrug, smiling as Patrick leaned back into his chest, removing the bunny from his face to babble at it cheerfully. “Yeah, are you a happy little guy?” he asked, carefully moving his left arm to rub up his son’s ticklish side. “Da thinks you’re going to be a little difficult tonight, but he’s being silly. You’ve just got to eat some peas without crying. Can you do that?”

Patrick just mumbled and waved his bunny around, clenching its ear in a tight fist.

Finishing up his food, Aidan just shrugged. “We’ll see,” he said, waving at Patrick to get his attention. “I’m going to get your bib and bring you to my lap so Daddy can finish eating while I feed you, okay?” he said, taking his plate to the kitchen and putting it by the sink before coming back to the table. “You’re up. Take that bunny away,” he told Dean as he grabbed the jar of food to open it up.

After dropping his fork and taking a deep breath, the older man got a hold on the stuffed animal and gently tugged it. “Food time,” he said softly, keeping his voice soothing in hopes that Patrick would stay calm while his toy was taken away. “Can’t eat your dinner while holding Buns,” he explained, finally managing to wrest the rabbit from his son’s surprisingly strong grip. “Shit,” he mumbled when the little boy turned his head up at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Hey, sweetie, you’re okay,” he cajoled, using his right hand to jiggle his son gently in an attempt to comfort him. “As soon as you’ve eaten your dinner, you’ll get Buns back and you can go to sleep.” He had somehow ended up in charge of naming his son’s rabbit, and he had clearly not been very good at it.

Patrick didn’t start sobbing, so Aidan picked him up and put him in his lap. “Okay, bug, I promise that Daddy wasn’t lying to you when he said you’d get Buns back, but you’ve got to eat some first,” he said in an upbeat tone, trying to distract his son from any lingering unhappiness, as he dipped the spoon into the baby food. “Open up, Paddy!” he cooed, making a few silly faces until Patrick relaxed and started to eat.

“Told you he was up to it,” Dean said with a grin as he started working on his own food. “He’s still going to crash, but he can make it through this.” He shrugged his left shoulder to try to work out a bit of discomfort. Their son was becoming a pretty good eater; in general, he was great at everything he did in his little baby life. Once he had his first bite, he tended to just go along and eat until he was full.

That night was no exception, and Patrick happily sat on Aidan’s lap and ate tranquilly. When he was done, he pushed his father’s hand away and grabbed his shirt to tug on instead, babbling to himself.

“I’ll get him ready for bed,” Dean offered, putting down his fork as he finished up. “If you can put everything in the dishwasher, I’ll get him changed, asleep, and in the crib. Sound good?”

Aidan smiled and nodded. “Goodnight, bug,” he said quietly, picking Patrick up and giving him a kiss before handing him off to his other father. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He picked the stuffed animal up off the table and pressed it into his son’s hands, smiling when the little boy’s face lit up as he grabbed it and squeaked.

“Okay, let’s go to bed,” Dean said in a soft voice, wanting to keep Patrick calm as they headed into the nursery. “Clean nappy, clean sleeper, and then we’ll read a story,” he explained, putting the little boy onto the changing table and noticing how tired he looked as he got him into a clean diaper and a fresh sleeper, one with a smiling dinosaur on the front. “You look like you’re about to fall right asleep, so we’ll do something nice and short. How about _Goodnight Moon_?” he suggested, pulling the little book off of the shelf and opening it on his lap so that his son could see the pictures. By the time he had finished the book, taking a fair amount of time to turn the pages, even though the cardboard pages were easier than regular paper, Patrick was asleep against his stomach. “Night, sweetie,” he whispered as he put his son into the crib, and he then grabbed the baby monitor, turned out the light, and headed back to his and Aidan’s bedroom.

The younger man was already there, plugging his phone into the wall. “He go down okay?” he asked. “Perfect,” he said when he received a nod from his husband. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“I’ll wait until after,” Dean said with a grin, eyes flicking over Aidan’s body. “I’ve got a promise or two that I need to collect on,” he teased. “I remember a certain somebody talking about some really great things he would do to me if I set a world record, and, if I remember correctly, I set two. Do I get double the orgasms?”

Aidan rolled over close to his husband, the frame of his chair running into Dean’s knees gently. “I thought it was a given that I will give you as many orgasms as you want, whenever you want,” he purred, hoisting himself into his husband’s lap. “Do you want to get on the bed?” he asked, not waiting for an answer before he leaned his head down to kiss and suck at the older man’s neck.

Before Dean could respond, he cut himself off with a gasp; Aidan had immediately found the most sensitive spot, just to the left of his Adam’s apple. “Depends on what you’re planning to do to me,” he managed to reply after a few moments. “See, if you want to ride me, we can stay right here, but if you’re planning to put anything inside me, we need to move.”

“Ooh, so many decisions,” Aidan said, grinning as he pulled away from his husband’s neck, his ass and hips grinding down in a firm, repetitive motion, before stopping abruptly.

“Hey!” Dean protested, bumping an arm against the younger man’s hip.

Aidan smirked. “When we were in Berlin, you told me that you got a pump after your injury, and, well, I’m interested in pursuing that line of, uh, thought,” he continued, trying not to blush. He rarely felt embarrassed or uncomfortable in the bedroom, but he was a tiny bit worried that this request was crossing some sort of invisible line.

“That can be arranged,” Dean said easily, tone light and cheerful to keep Aidan from freaking himself out over nothing. “It’s in a box in the back of the closet, I think. It’s with the other stuff I have from rehab that I didn’t throw away but don’t actually use. Can’t it wait for another night, though?” he added hopefully. “It’s going to take time to find it and clean it, and I’m in the mood to get laid right now.”

Without missing a beat, Aidan began to grind down roughly again and attacked the exposed skin of his husband’s neck, which was already turning pink from the attention he had already given it. “Desperate is a good look on you,” he muttered into the flesh below his lips. “A very, very good look.” As he felt Dean beginning to grow hard against his ass, he started to wrack his brains for something special to do in bed—or in the chair, as it were. He knew perfectly well that the older man wouldn’t mind if they had sex like they always did, because it was great, but he wanted it to be exciting and new. New world records were a great excuse to change things up, and he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to do that.

“When I said ‘right now’ a few seconds ago, I meant it,” Dean commented after a few moments; Aidan had clearly gotten a little distracted, and was moving in slower, less firm circles against him, and he was going to lose his erection if that didn’t change soon. “On the bed, in the chair… I don’t care, but we need to be naked.”

“You’re so demanding,” Aidan groaned, putting a little more effort into his movements on top of his husband. “Try to think of something special to give a guy and he’s all ‘my boner’s dying’ this, and ‘you’ve stopped touching where I have sensation’ that,” he teased, grinning. “I was a little distracted trying to decide what to do with you, gorgeous. There are so many options, but we’ve only got the energy for one round, so I’ve got to pick something great,” he explained. “I only had congratulatory sex with you after one event, and you won seven, with two records. I can’t give you anything less than perfection.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s a sweet sentiment and all, but I’d settle for anything at all right now,” he said, tilting his head to kiss Aidan’s neck, biting a little. “I’m down for anything, you know. I’ll suck you off and let you come all over my face like the little pervert you are, or I’ll lie under you and let you fuck me or ride me, or I’ll have an amazing orgasm on whatever toy you pick out for me, but for fuck’s sake, let’s do something.”

“Definitely desperate,” Aidan muttered, smiling in satisfaction. “Fine, since we apparently have to choose right now, we’re going to put a vibrating plug in your arse and I’m going to ride you.” He shivered a bit in anticipation when the older man let out a whine. “I’ll help you onto the bed so you can get undressed while I find the plug, okay?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Dean groaned softly, really liking the sound of all of that. “Bed,” he added, nudging Aidan in a hint. The younger man slid back into his wheelchair and got Dean onto the bed. Head propped up on pillows, the New Zealander carefully used his right hand to massage the bulge at the front of his pants as his husband scooted across the floor to open up a drawer in the dresser.

After a few moments digging around in the messy drawer, Aidan let out a triumphant noise. “Found it!” he said excitedly, holding the bright red toy in his mouth as he pulled himself back across the floor, up into his wheelchair, and then onto the bed. “Jesus, you’re hot,” he breathed, watching as his husband carefully touched himself. “Lube, and then I’ll get you naked and ride you like a fucking show pony.”

Dean grinned a little at the imagery, moving his hand a little to work on undoing the button of his jeans. “Come on,” he groaned softly. “Let’s go.” He continued to work on the button and fly of his clothing, but it was pretty much impossible with how spastic his hands were. By his hip, however, Aidan was throwing his clothes off easily, his shirt, sweatpants, and underwear hitting the floor in quick succession. “A little help would be great,” Dean muttered once the younger man was naked. “I think everything else will be a lot more fun if I got naked too.”

“Mm, sounds about right,” Aidan agreed, leaning down to work on his husband’s jeans, getting them undone and pulling them off relatively easily before moving on to pull his shirt over his head carefully, working stiff arms through sleeves as gently as he could. “There,” he said, smiling in satisfaction when Dean lay naked beneath him, his partial erection pressing up from his stomach proudly. “I think we can do better than that,” he muttered, sliding up the older man’s body to kiss him deeply as he rolled his hips down, rubbing his own hardening cock over his husband’s stomach as his ass ground down against Dean’s growing erection.

Looking up at his husband with a soft groan, the blond wrapped fingers through dark curls carefully; he barely had the function to do so, but he loved tugging them in the throes of pleasure. “Why don’t you open me up, stick that vibe in, and then ride me?” he muttered, grinning at the way the Irishman shuddered a bit.

“Fuck yeah,” Aidan answered, shuffling himself around so that he was in between the older man’s stiff legs, moving slow enough that Dean’s fingers stayed in his hair. “I’ll open myself up really fast once I’ve got you going,” he promised, slicking up his fingers before gently pressing one against his husband’s tight entrance. “Let’s get you nice and hard,” he added, almost to himself, and leaned down to suck at the semi-erect cock in front of his face.

Dean sighed happily; the soft sensation didn’t do as much for him as a tight hole or fist, but it still felt nice and he knew it would get him completely hard. “You look so damn good when you suck cock,” he whispered, wondering vaguely if Aidan had put a finger inside him yet. After this long together, the younger man didn’t always narrate his movements; Aidan could tell by feel when Dean was ready, and the Kiwi trusted him to wait long enough that he wouldn’t rip anything when he pressed his cock or a toy inside.

Carefully prying his husband open enough to slide in a second finger, Aidan just hummed around the hardening flesh in his mouth and ground his hips down into the mattress. With stimulation to his prostate and his erection, Dean probably wouldn’t last long, and Aidan wanted to be right there with him when they got there. Scissoring his fingers at a comfortable pace, he worked the older man open, feeling the tight muscle around his fingers relax just a little bit with every few movements. By the time he had three fingers sliding in and out easily, he felt confident that Dean was loose enough; the toy was slimmer than his cock, and would easily fit into his husband now. “I’m going to put it in, and I’ll turn it on once I’m on top of you,” he explained breathlessly, removing Dean’s hand from his hair before balancing falteringly on his stumps as he used his hand to insert the vibrator into the man below him, getting it in up to the flared base. After letting go of the toy, Aidan put his right forearm on Dean’s taut stomach and used it for balance as he pressed a finger inside of himself.

“I’m pretty sure I was some sort of martyr for a great cause in a past light to have this as my current life,” Dean mumbled, watching as Aidan bit his lip and thrust a second finger inside himself, probably a little sooner than he should have. “I love when you do that,” the older man admitted, lips twitching into a grin. “I can’t really be rough with you, so I get so fucking turned on when you’re rough with yourself.”

Taking the hint, Aidan thrust his fingers harder into himself, groaning at the feeling, and moaned loudly. “You like it?” he asked, pushing himself off of Dean’s stomach to balance precariously on his stumps again so that he could quickly push at his nipple with his right forearm stump, shivering at the feel of pressure on sensitive skin. “See, that’s really good to know, ‘cause I can get damn rough with myself sometimes,” he panted, squeezing a third finger into himself and doubling over for a moment. “Fuck that’s good. I’m not going to open myself all the way. I’m… I’m going to ride you tight and hard and so fuckin’ rough you won’t know what hit you.”

Dean whimpered a little at the thought, and he felt like he was about to have some sort of arousal-induced heart attack when Aidan almost immediately pulled his fingers out of his body, grabbed Dean’s erection to position it, and sank down. “Holy shit!” he gasped, feeling the surge of pleasure that came from pressure on his erection.

“Vibe,” Aidan muttered distractedly, bracing himself on his right arm as he leaned back to turn the toy inside of Dean on, putting it on the highest setting immediately; lower settings were pointless for the older man. He was about to sit up when he heard a protesting noise from his husband.

“That, uh… this is a really nice view,” Dean admitted in a strangled voice. “If it feels good and isn’t fucking up your arms, I’d like you to, um, stay like that?” He usually wasn’t so shy, but he felt like that might be an excessive request.

Aidan grinned widely. “It’ll be like lifting weights, but, you know, sexy,” he said using his arm to start moving himself up and down. It wasn’t an easy position, and wasn’t as pleasurable as it would have been if Dean could thrust, but it was worth it to watch the other man’s face. “God,” he moaned, bending and straightening his arm to move his lower body up and down on the thick erection inside of him.

The younger man’s movements managed to jar the toy inside of him just right, and Dean made a choking noise before managing an, “Oh fuck!” as it pressed against his prostate, buzzing strongly. “Best idea ever,” he added, watching as Aidan curled a hand around his dripping erection and began to stroke. “Tell me…” He paused and licked his lips. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fucking perfect,” Aidan answered in a low voice, jacking himself with efficient strokes and making quiet noises of pleasure the whole time. “Good position and I swear your cock is harder than it’s ever been inside me, thanks to that fucking vibrator,” he explained in a breathless voice, shivering with pleasure. “I’ve got to… shite,” he groaned, unable to complete his next sentence as Dean’s erection pressed especially hard into his prostate. “I…”

Dean wasn’t sure how long he was going to last, or how far along Aidan was, but he wanted to know what the hell the other man was getting at. “Got to what, babe? Got to what?” he asked, dragging his right arm up his own chest in a vain attempt to rub his own nipples; his wrist and elbow were too stiff to do much, but he continued the movement all the same.

Aidan cried out a little louder than he meant to, shifting his position a little more to keep his husband’s cock hitting his prostate constantly. “Got to get you off first,” he muttered, wrenching his hand off of his cock and reaching down to pinch Dean’s nipple instead. He watched as the older man arched his neck a little, tightening himself around his husband. He could see the Kiwi getting closer and closer, and then…

“Ee!”

“Fuck,” Aidan said, practically toppling off of Dean. “Shit,” he continued, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. “One moment,” he yelled as Patrick continued to squall over the baby monitor. “He couldn’t have waited two fucking minutes?” he groused, yanking on his sweats. “Give me a sec,” he told his husband.

“It’s still on,” Dean gasped, shivering on the bed.

Aidan grinned. “Yeah, it is,” he said as he pulled himself into his wheelchair and left the room to go to the nursery. “Bug, not a good time,” he muttered, though he was pretty sure it was his own fault; he should really have moaned more quietly. “Please tell me it’s just a nappy change and then you’ll sleep because, seriously, bad timing,” he said, lifting his son and sniffing at him. “Okay, yes, nappy,” he sighed in relief. “Let’s get you changed and then you can sleep because some of us are doing some important things.” As quickly as he could, he unsnapped Patrick’s pajama onesie and, holding him on the changing table while he reached under to get a fresh diaper, soothing cream, and wipes. “Let’s be nice and calm,” he added, humming a tune quietly as he wiped his son off and got him changed. “Okay, bedtime for my bug,” he said softly, rocking him against his shoulder until he fell asleep, thankfully within a couple minutes. “You’re the best, Paddy-Pads,” he whispered as he put his son back into the crib. “Now stay asleep.”

When Aidan got back to the bedroom, his arousal, which had died when he had gone into the nursery to deal with a sobbing baby, shot through the roof. “Fuck,” he groaned, watching as Dean squirmed on the bed, his erection creating a small puddle of precome on his stomach. “Fuck,” he repeated.

“Like what you see?” Dean teased breathlessly, turning his head to watch Aidan strip off his sweatpants and jump back onto the bed. “Aww, you’ve got to catch back up,” he said, looking disappointed as his gaze drifted down to his husband’s cock, which had softened considerably.

“That won’t take long,” Aidan promised, squeezing his dick roughly before beginning to stroke it with sharp, efficient strokes. “You look so goddamn hot like that,” he whispered, leaning down and licking at the fluid on Dean’s stomach, catching his the tip of the older man’s erection as he did so. “Mm,” he mumbled to himself, sucking the head into his mouth.

Dean groaned softly, using his closed-up right hand to shove at the younger man’s head. “No, no,” he panted. “You’re catching up. I’m really fucking close and you’ve got to ride me again.”

“Yes, sir,” Aidan answered, biting his husband’s hip roughly, hoping that the sensation went through. Judging by the lack of change in Dean’s expression and the fact that his breathing stayed the same, there wasn’t any feeling, but, hey, biting his hot husband was still pretty fun. “Good for me to get back up on you?” he asked, straddling the older man’s hips once more.

Dean nodded, and then stifled a groan as Aidan sank back down onto his erection. “God, babe,” he whispered, bumping his hand against the younger man’s thigh just to touch. “Get yourself off on me, Aid, ‘cause I’m about to blow and don’t want to leave you hanging.”

After taking a deep breath and biting down on his lip to keep quiet—he refused to wake his son again before he finished—Aidan braced his right arm on the headboard and began to bounce quickly, gripping himself tightly and stroking quickly as he worked to get himself off. “Fuck, fuck… fuck,” the younger man groaned, unable to find more words to express his pleasure. “Dean,” he gasped, moving his arm from the headboard so that he could reach down and touch his own balls, feeling them drawing up close to his body. “I’m going to… I’m going to come!”

“Do it,” Dean grunted, chewing his lip as he pressed his fist harder against Aidan’s thigh. “Fuck, yeah,” he whispered reverently, watching as his husband shook above him and came, thick fluid spilling over his fingers as he almost fell over, a hand flying off of his balls to grab Dean’s shoulder to steady himself. “You’re fucking hot,” he sighed as he watched Aidan’s face relax in post-coital bliss.

“Your turn,” Aidan said with a grin, panting a little as he started to move again, clenching his internal muscles as he continued to bounce on top of his husband. “Ooh, that’s…” he grunted, mouth pinching in discomfort. It turned out continuing to ride one’s husband after coming wasn’t as pleasurable as he would have hoped. “Come on,” he whispered, reaching down to pinch the older man’s nipple between strong fingers.

On the bed, Dean breathed harshly as he felt assaulted by ecstasy at practically every nerve ending possible—his groin, his ass, his nipple… everything felt absolutely wonderful as he twisted his head to the side. “Fuck, Aid,” he cried out, biting his lip to keep quiet as he came hard, a feeling of intense pleasure spreading throughout his body. “Okay, that can… vibrator off,” he whispered after a few moments, feeling the sensation below start to get a bit weird.

“Yeah,” Aidan panted, rolling off of Dean to pull the buzzing toy out of his husband and turning it off before throwing it off to the side. “Hot,” he said succinctly, flopping down next to the older man’s shoulder. “Very hot. Could’ve done without the interruption and all, but, hey, hot.”

Dean smiled, exhausted, and leaned his head to touch it to Aidan’s. “This is some great reinforcement to get me to win more things,” he said with a breathless laugh. “I’ll tell my coach about this amazing system,” he added cheekily. “I don’t need to wear pajamas, do I?” he asked after a moment.

“Fuck pajamas,” Aidan said cheerfully. “I’ll get this crap off the bed and we can go to sleep. You look like you’re going to drop off at any second,” he added, looking at the older man’s drooping eyelids. “Hell, you can fall asleep before I get into bed if you need. I have to leave for work at eight tomorrow, so I’ll get you dressed around seven.” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips before grabbing the lube and toy to put away.

“Mm, I love you,” Dean mumbled, watching lazily as Aidan moved around. As the brunet had predicted, he was asleep within just a few seconds, comfortable and sated.


	42. The Beginning of a Week Off

By the time Aidan left the house at eight the next morning to drive to the bank, Dean was in his power chair, wearing jeans, the condom cath, and a loose t-shirt, and cheerfully narrating his movements to his son. “See, we’re going to go over here and watch a movie together. Now, movies probably aren’t great for development, but I can’t get down for floor time with you so we’ve got to do what we can. I’ll give you blocks and your toys in your little playpen later so that we can play together. Won’t that be fun? Daddy and Paddy playtime!” he said cheerfully, making sure that Patrick hadn’t thrown his bunny to the ground before moving into the living room with him. “Let’s watch something fun, my little snuggle buddy. We can watch the second _How to Train Your Dragon_. You haven’t seen the first, but I don’t care, because the second one has an amputee hero! Manu sent this after you were born so that you can see a good character who doesn’t have two legs like most movie characters,” he explained as he moved slowly and methodically to put the DVD into the player. “Also, dragons. Dragons are cool! Uncle Luke probably likes dragons, since they’re on the Welsh flag.” He knew that he talked excessively when he was alone with Patrick, but he figured that the intellectual and verbal stimulation were good for the little boy.

Once the movie started, he focused on holding Patrick in a way that would be comfortable for both of them. He loved to watch the way the infant rubbed his face on various textures and, that morning, Patrick couldn’t seem to decide between his soft, fuzzy bunny and his father’s t-shirt, warm skin and wiry chest hair underneath it providing an interesting sensation to his cheeks. “Dw!” he yelled happily, sticking his tongue out to lick his older father’s shirt curiously.

“Dw, indeed,” Dean agreed calmly. “Little man, you’re going to be such a curious little guy as you grow. We’ll have to keep an eye on you when you start scooting around, because I know everything you can find is going to go in that mouth of yours.” He rubbed over Patrick’s back with his right hand. “See, that’s Hiccup. In the first movie, his lower leg was amputated, like Daddy’s friend Jonnie. Now he has a really cool prosthetic, which he can walk on and then turn somehow so that it attaches into his dragon saddle.” He smiled. “This movie shows that there are cool things you can do with do with prosthetics. You already know all the cool things you can do with a wheelchair, thanks to having a couple of awesome daddies in wheelchairs.”

He shifted in his chair, feeling a little uncomfortable. “You know, buddy, if I had known six years ago that I’d have a perfect little baby and could stay with him without my PCA, I’d have gotten a power chair that could tilt back,” he said conversationally. “Maybe Daddy’s insurance will let him get a new wheelchair,” he speculated. “See, Daddy hasn’t gotten a new chair since his accident, except for his racing chairs—the first one wasn’t good enough quality for competing at the world level which is why there is one in storage along with the one I use—so maybe insurance will pay for a new chair. Especially if Daddy and Da can show that having a sweet little man means needing a better chair.”

Patrick pulled at Dean’s shirt tightly, and the New Zealander was pretty sure that if his son had had legs, he would be standing up after that pull. “Good job!” he praised, watching as his son balanced precariously on his short stumps. “You’re growing up so well. I’m going to text Da and let him know you stood up on your little stumps, okay?” he said, still holding Patrick with one hand as he reached for his phone, going past the lock screen and opening his messages.

He typed out, _paddy is standin on his stumps he is big pls b proud w me_ and then hit send, still smiling widely.

Within a minute, he got a reply. _Tell him good job, and I want to see him do it tonight. Love you both!_

“Da says that he loves us, that you’re doing a great job with your little standing, and that he’s going to see you do it tonight,” the Kiwi relayed to his son, who just giggled happily in his lap, clearly entertaining himself listening to his father’s voice and waving his bunny around. “I know you’ve done a bit of pulling yourself on your arms, with your tummy on the ground, but I bet you’re going to start pulling yourself the way Da does when he’s out of his chair. With you learning to stand up, maybe we can get you some 3D printed little legs to try out soon,” he commented, smiling at the thought. “You know, I want to talk to you about that. You get to do whatever you want, okay? Da has a wheelchair instead of prosthetics, but that’s what _he_ wants. If you want prosthetics, that’s okay! You’ll get to grow into the tallest one in the family. Maybe,” he corrected himself. “I don’t know how tall you’ll be. Your birth mommy didn’t have any information on your birth daddy's family,” he explained.

On his father’s lap, Patrick waved his bunny around, hitting his father in the chest a couple times. He babbled to himself happily, loving the sound of his own voice. There was something colorful behind him, but he cared more about his bunny and his father.

Dean smiled down at his son. “You’re a smart guy, you know that?” he told his son. “I know you’re going to grow up to work hard to follow your dreams. See, you can do what you put your mind to, but you’ve got to work really hard for it,” he explained. “You can wish on birthday cakes and stars, but it takes work and drive to get what you want. I know you’ll have that.”

Not paying attention to his father’s voice, Patrick got distracted by something shiny up on the mantel. “Ah!” he yelled, stretching his tiny fingers out in an attempt to touch, but he was too far away. “Ah!” he repeated, wanting to get it.

“What do you want?” Dean asked, turning his head to follow Patrick’s gaze, and he smiled. “Okay, you can play with one,” he promised, moving a few feet to the mantle to reach up and pull one of his medals off of its stand. “Knock yourself out, buddy,” he said, putting it in his son’s hand and watching as the gold circle went straight into the little boy’s mouth. He turned his attention away, though, when he saw his phone light up and heard it trill next to him. “Ooh, looks like Jonnie knows something about the team’s PT that Daddy needs,” he said cheerfully, opening up the full message.

_We’ve got a PT who can refer you to a massage therapist. I think if you text coach he’ll get you in contact with her. Let me know if you need a ride to PT and/or a babysitter for when you’re there._

Dean typed out a quick _, thx_ before switching over to send a message to his coach and putting his phone to the side. “Okay, maybe you will get to hang out with Jonnie while Daddy gets some help with his muscles,” he informed his son, who was still chewing on his gold medal happily, rubbing the ribbon between his left thumb and forefinger. “It’ll be good for you to socialize with people other than your daddies and Luke. We should find some baby friends for you,” he added.

The rest of the movie passed with quiet talk and Patrick chewing on Dean’s medal, Dean’s shirt, and his rabbit. “Ee!” he said happily when his father began to move, heading to the DVD player to put their movie away.

“Let’s have a little snack, buddy, and then we can play blocks together,” Dean suggested cheerfully, kissing his son’s forehead and putting his medal back on the mantel before moving over toward the kitchen.

* * *

Aidan was exhausted by the time he got home; he’d had a morning of meetings, written up his notes on the meetings, had another meeting, and then spent a lot of time doing input onto accounting software. After traveling for a couple weeks, he had catch-up work to do, and was just plain tired from everything in Germany, despite the fact he hadn’t competed at all. “How are my favorite guys?” he called out as he locked the door behind himself, put his keys on the small table by the door, and then went into the living room. “How are you, bug?” he asked, lifting Patrick out of Dean’s lap and over his head.

In the air, Patrick wiggled his little arms around and smiled down at his younger father.

“He’s been a good little guy all day,” Dean informed Aidan, leaning over carefully to kiss his husband’s cheek. “We watched a movie, played blocks, took naps, and then hung out while I spent an hour on hold and finally got to talk to someone at my insurance company.”

“What for?”

“I think I’m going to try to get a power chair that can tilt,” the New Zealander explained. “If I’m in the electric a lot to be able to hold Patrick over the next few years, I need to be able to change where my body weight is putting pressure. If you can talk to your company, I think Paddy should get his first legs and chair soon. He’s start to pull himself up in a way that would be standing if he had legs, and some kids start walking around eight months, so he might be at the point, developmentally, where he could use ‘em soon. We can get some 3D printed legs and one of those plastic wheelchairs and he’ll be set.”

Aidan nodded. “I’ll call when I have a break tomorrow morning,” he promised, pulling Patrick close to kiss his pudgy cheek. “Are you excited to get your first legs and chair? I bet you’ll have a lot of fun with both of them.” He glanced down at Dean’s leg. “Do you want to leave the cath on?” he asked. “If you do, we should empty the bag.”

“I’ll keep it on if you can empty the bag for me,” Dean said, taking Patrick back as his husband bent down to disconnect the bag at his ankle, plugging the tube with a little stopper so that he could go to the bathroom. “Ta,” he said cheerfully when Aidan came back a couple minutes later, out of his suit and into sweats, and reconnected the bag and went to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. “So I think my insurance company is going to approve a new power chair if I get another seat eval. I’m going to massage therapy tomorrow, and Jonnie’s going to pick me up for it and watch Paddy while I’m there. I’ll try to get an eval this week or next,” Dean explained, a little proud of how much he had scheduled that day. “Luke and I can take Paddy for his first prosthetic and wheelchair fittings whenever we can get him an appointment.”

Though he wasn’t quite following what was going on, Aidan absolutely positive that Dean had put it into the color-coded Google calendar that they both had access to. God bless his organized husband. “You get so much done even on a week off,” he said with a smile. “I was thinking of making a spinach salad. Want chicken or beef on it?” he asked, heading into the kitchen to check their refrigerator. “Or I would make a salad if I had remembered to get groceries,” he muttered, seeing the meager offerings their fridge had to offer. “Frozen spinach and chicken lasagna it is, then.”

“Paddy, you’re going to grow up really liking spinach, because it’s basically the greatest green on the planet,” Dean said cheerfully. “We eat it with dinner at least three times a week, and sometimes we eat it raw out of the bag. It’s good stuff.” He paused and looked over at Aidan. “So, uh, can I bring up… a big thing?” he asked, watching as the younger man turned on the oven.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered.

Dean cleared his throat, feeling a little uncomfortable as first. “You’re retiring from playing professionally,” he began, “and so there isn’t a real need to be close to your national team, and I could, uh, benefit…”

“We can move to New Zealand,” Aidan interrupted, knowing exactly what his husband was getting at. “It’ll be way easier for you to work on your Tokyo qualifications if you’re with the rest of the team. Our son is really young, so it wouldn’t be disrupting his education or anything, and my bank has branches all over the world, including one in Auckland. There is literally no reason for us to stay here.”

The older man rolled his eyes. “That’s a bit of an oversimplification,” he muttered, but he smiled. “If you can start talking to your bosses, I’ll call my coach and he can probably get me back to my job that’s basically being an athlete. I’m doing really well right now, obviously, but I think I have a higher potential I could reach if I were training fulltime. We could live just outside of the training center, since I don’t know if there is any family housing on the center, but it would make a difference for me. We don’t have to, though!” he added hastily.

“Babe, I _want_ to,” Aidan said, moving away from the oven as it heated up. “We’ve lived here for a while, and it made since when I was training for the Irish team, but retirement for me means you can train better with the New Zealand team, and I’m happy to live there. Moving will be a bitch, but you’ve done it before. We’ll have more stuff, since we have a family and all, but we can do it. Let your coach know you plan to come back, start looking into a part-time PCA, and I’ll do my part,” he said, kissing Dean’s nose before leaning down to kiss their son’s cheek. “You could grow up in New Zealand, bug! It’s really pretty, you’d be near Grandma and Grandpa, and you’d love it.”

Feeling a little better about their life plans, as oversimplified as they were, Dean handed Patrick over to Aidan. “It’s going to be rough telling Luke we’re leaving and he needs to find a new job,” the New Zealander said, looking a bit guilty. “I mean, he knows that PCA work doesn’t last forever, but it’s still hard to have to tell him he’s only got a few more months with me before he needs a new job.” He sighed. “This is what sucks about having a PCA: letting them go, especially when they’re good like he is.” He stretched out his left shoulder tiredly. “That massage therapy is going to be great,” he groaned.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed, jiggling Patrick in his arms. “You seem really stiff, Deano. I think this is going to take forever,” he said, abruptly changing the subject and nodding toward the oven. “Once I stick it in, I’ll do some floor time with Paddy to see what he can do for learning to ‘stand’ a little. Gotta see how my little bug is growing up!”

Patrick let go of his bunny with one hand, keeping an ear in his tight grasp, and reached up to tug at his younger father’s bouncy curls. “Pa!” he said cheerfully. “Eem?” he said, his voice raising at the end as if in question.

“Definitely eem,” Aidan agreed sagely, using his nose to tickle through his son’s hair. “Do you have a favorite color yet? Okay, even if you do, you can’t actually tell me yet, but I’ll try to make sure your first prosthetics are cool. Maybe they could be blue, or purple. You like your special purple dinosaur, right? Maybe we can get purple prosthetics.”

“I think most of them are just plain white plastic to start with, love,” Dean said, feeling a little bad about bursting his husband’s bubble. “His later ones can have colors, though,” he added as a consolation. “Mm, Aid, if I take him, can you start the wash? I can maybe ask Jonnie to help me get some groceries tomorrow, but we need to wash things or Patrick’s one spit-up on Buns from melting down when he can’t have something soft.”

Aidan groaned. “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” he mumbled. “Take the bug for a few minutes and I’ll take a load down to the basement and get it started. I’ll be back before the oven’s hot enough and I’ll get the lasagna in, play with Paddy, and then switch everything from the washer to the dryer, and we can eat while everything’s drying, and you can get him to bed while I fold?”

“You’re the best,” Dean said with a smile, bringing Patrick into his lap. “It’s okay, he’ll be back in a little while,” he told the little boy as he reached over at his younger father with a whine. “I know, I love him too, but he’s going to wash your clothes and your blankie. You miss your blankie, and we’ve got to get it clean for when you get Buns dirty, ‘cause we both know that’s going to happen,” he pointed out, glad when his son seemed to get distracted from wanting Aidan and instead started babbling animatedly at his stuffed rabbit. “Make sure his blanket is in this load,” he called out to Aidan, who was in their bedroom, gathering clothes from their hamper.

Aidan rolled his eyes good-naturedly; he had put the soft, plaid blanket in the hamper first thing, followed by the everyday clothes that they had worn in Germany and a few of Dean’s workout shirts. The rest was left to be done later, hopefully within the week.

Patrick sighed softly as he leaned into Dean’s chest, clearly tired. He kept his bunny clutched in his left hand but poked the other against his father’s arm happily.

With a laugh, Dean craned his neck at an uncomfortable angle to kiss his son’s hair. “I don’t really feel your hand there, but that’s okay. I’m probably not going to be your patty-cake partner in the future.” He moved over toward the living room, knowing that Aidan would want to play with their son there. “Buddy, what am I going to do without work or practice for a whole week? I’m not good at sitting still like we did today. We’ll definitely bribe Jonnie to take us to the grocery store, but maybe we can find somewhere fun to go some of the other days. What if we went out for lunch? I mean, it’s probably boring for you, since you’d still just eat baby food, but people would tell you how cute you are all the time, which is good for your tiny baby self-esteem.”

A few minutes later, with the laundry already going in the washer, Aidan came back into the small flat. “Did the oven beep yet?” he asked, and, when he got an affirmative answer from his husband, he stuck the lasagna into the hot oven. “Let’s see you learning to stand up!” he cooed as he wheeled quickly over to the living room. Once he was on the floor, he reached up and plucked Patrick out of Dean’s lap, swooping the little boy over his head before putting him down in front of him on the floor. “Daddy says you stood up on his lap today! Can you show me how you stand up?”

Patrick, in his own happy little world, wiggled around on the floor, tugging at the fraying ends of his younger father’s cutoff sweatpants. He tugged himself closer to his father, scooting on his butt, and rested his head on the Irishman’s thigh. “Foo,” he mumbled, lifting his bunny above his head to shake around.

“Here, I’m going to get you started, bug, because it’s probably not as natural of an impulse to stand up when you don’t have legs,” Aidan said easily, shifting Patrick around and putting his fingers in front of the little boy, who automatically grasped them in his small hands. “Ready? Can you show Da how you can stand up?” he asked, pulling his hands up a tiny bit to pull his son up onto his short residual legs.

Wobbling a little, Patrick gripped Aidan’s fingers tightly and moved himself onto his stumps, smiling and giggling once he was up. He weaved around a little before plopping back down, absorbing the impact on his diapered butt and immediately letting go of his father to grab Buns again.

“What a good job!” Aidan praised, scooping his son into his arms and giving him a big kiss on the cheek. “I think Daddy’s right, and it is time to get you prosthetics and a little chair so you can start moving around like a big boy.” When Patrick gripped his hair tightly in one hand, he shifted the giggling infant onto his hip and bounced him a little. “Do you need some massage tonight, babe?” he asked, looking over at Dean’s pinched face. “You look so sore that I don’t think you’ll sleep well without something. I can give you a massage or stretch you out a little.”

Dean nodded. “Luke’s going to give me a shower when he comes over at eight, and my muscles will loosen up with the hot water, and then you can stretch me out before bed,” he suggested, yawning a little. “Tomorrow night when we aren’t figuring out laundry and shit, we should give Paddy a bath. He’s getting a bit smelly,” he said with a smile, looking teasingly down at his mumbling son. “It’s okay, buddy. Daddy will still read you a story, even if you do smell.” He shifted his left shoulder, groaning a little in pain. “Okay, yeah, I really should’ve scheduled massage therapy before I went to Berlin.”

“Guess all that color-coded scheduling doesn’t help that much,” Aidan teased, smiling. “Once we’re in New Zealand, you’ll be back to knowing everybody who works with the team and you’ll actually get all the appointments you need and everything.” He raised an eyebrow. “At least, I hope so. You won’t have any more excuses if you don’t go to therapists.”

“Damn,” Dean replied, smirking a little. “There go all my hopes of being in pain from skipping on PT and OT and massage.” He watched as Patrick tugged especially hard at Aidan’s curls, trying not to laugh when the Irishman winced. “Paddy, buddy, be gentle with Da. His hair is pretty, so let’s not pull all of it out.”

With gentle but firm movements, Aidan carefully tugged his son’s fingers out of his thick hair. “I know you can’t control your muscle movements enough to be gentle yet, so let’s stick to tugging on clothes and stuff instead of hair until you can make yourself a little softer, okay?”

Once his hand had been moved away from dark, bouncy curls, Patrick wrapped his fingers into his younger father’s t-shirt instead, leaning lazily on his chest as he tugged at the soft fabric, babbling cheerfully.

“We really hit the jackpot in terms of having a happy, well-adjusted baby,” Dean commented contentedly. “You’re such a good little guy!” he added when Patrick looked over at the sound of his voice. “Since I work from home to stay with you right now, I appreciate that a lot.” He switched his focus from his son to his husband. “When we move to New Zealand, I’m thinking I can do part-time PCA and just stick to a condom cath. It’ll save us money, and it’s kind of nice to be independent. I’ll be training almost all the time anyway, and the staff will help me with transfers at the track. I’d rather spend our money on our kid than on my care, and I’ll be fine alone if I get a tilting power chair to shift my weight distribution without help.”

Aidan smiled. “Whatever you want, babe,” he replied, glad to see that Dean’s plans for their move involved increased independence. “As long as you’re safe and have as much care as you want, I’m happy. Just don’t cut down on care more than you’re comfortable just to save money, yeah? We can always find some more money somehow to get by.”

“I know,” Dean answered. “But it’s been more than five years since my accident, and I think I’m ready for really basic care, just help getting dressed and showered. I could have a PCA come by in the morning to get me up and everything for the day, and then after practice so I can shower and change. Unless we have people over for dinner or go out, I can get straight into my pajamas. That’s just a couple hours of care each day, and my insurance would probably completely cover that, instead of the partial coverage we have now.”

“Your responsible financial planning is hot,” Aidan teased, picking Patrick up off of his hips and lifting him over his head. “There’s my bug! There’s my bug!” he cooed as the little boy squirmed and laughed. “Do you want to try some of Daddy and Da’s lasagna tonight? You can have a tiny bite of spinach and pasta that I mash up for you. It’s going to taste so good!” he promised cheerfully, lowering his son to his face to blow a raspberry against his chubby cheek.

Patrick giggled loudly as he kicked his short stumps around in the air and reached one hand down to squeeze and scratch at his younger father’s wrist. “Ah!” he yelled happily, not aware enough to notice Aidan’s wince at his loud voice.

Up above the other two, Dean grinned. “He’s happy and well-adjusted and all, but definitely not good at being quiet,” he said, watching as Aidan brought their son back to his hip and rocked him to try to calm him down so that he would stop shouting at the top of his tiny lungs. “It’s a good thing there aren’t many flats on the first floor,” he added as Patrick refused to quiet down. “If we had any common walls with neighbors, he’d probably wake them up, or at least annoy them. Yeah, you would,” he told his son with a grin. “I love you a lot, and I get you at all your cutest moments, but even I get a bit annoyed when you yell for too long.”

On his Irish father’s hip, Patrick finally calmed down and leaned his head against Aidan’s chest, yawning squeakily.

“There we go,” Aidan said in an even, soothing tone. “Let’s stay nice and calm, bug, because you’re going to go to bed in an hour so that you’ll be happy when Daddy and Jonnie take you out to Daddy’s therapist and the supermarket tomorrow. If you don’t sleep enough, you get grouchy.”

Dean watched fondly as his husband talked softly with their son, keeping him calm and content as he yawned. “Babe, I think the wash is done by now,” he said after a while, glancing up at the clock. “You can switch it and then we can eat, yeah?” he suggested, taking Patrick so that Aidan could get back into his wheelchair.

“Sounds good,” Aidan answered, kissing Dean’s nose happily. “Can you get out plates and everything?” he asked, leaving the flat after his husband nodded. Their kitchen was arranged so that the older man could reach all the necessities, so the division of labor worked perfectly. Aidan returned to the apartment a couple minutes later to find that there were plates, napkins, and a fork and spoon on the table for the adults and a jar of baby food and a spoon for Patrick. Dean had gotten Patrick into his relatively new highchair and was attempting to get a bib around the little boy’s neck. “I’ll get the lasagna out,” he called over, heading over to the oven. “If you can get a bib on that squirmy little kid over there, I’d be much obliged.”

Dean snorted, trying to telepathically make his son stay still. “It’ll take a miracle for that to happen,” he informed the younger man.

“Able-bodied people would tell me that I’m doing the hard work tonight, with cooking and laundry, but you’re in charge of everything with Patrick, so I’m pretty sure I got the easy jobs,” Aidan commented, pulling the lasagna pan from the oven and putting it on the stove. “Do you want me to cut yours up for you?” he asked his husband as switched the noodle dish from the hot pan to a cold plate that he could carry.

“Please,” Dean answered, and then crowed in triumph as he managed to stick the two Velcro ends of the bib together behind Patrick’s neck. “Ha! I did it!” The bib askew, the ends barely attached to each other, but it was fucking _on_ and that was what counted.

Grinning as he came up to the table, Aidan set the lasagna down on the table before kissing Dean proudly. “Your gold medals are cool and all, but getting a bib on our kid when he won’t sit still is more of an accomplishment,” he teased, using a spoon to put lasagna on each of their plates. Having forgotten a knife, the Irishman made do and cut up his husband’s portion with the edge of the spoon. “I’ve got him,” he told the older man, letting him start to eat as he multitasked, taking a bite and then feeding Patrick one.

Picking up his spoon and starting to eat was almost as difficult for Dean as putting a bib on his son had been; his hands were stiff as hell, and silverware was always difficult. Even putting a spoon down for himself instead of a fork wasn’t helping much, and he was pretty sure that only half of each bite that he tried to scoop up ended up in his mouth. “Paddy, buddy, let me tell you,” he said as he took a break from the enormous amount of effort he was putting into eating, “unlike Da and any of your friend’s able-bodied parents you’ll meet, I am really going to understand how hard it is when you start feeding yourself and are bad at it. Feeding yourself is super hard,” he explained, grinning as his son smiled at him, making some of the pureed peas come out of his little mouth. “I’m good at swallowing, though, so I’ve got you beat there.”

“Want to try what your daddies are eating?” Aidan offered, using his fork to mash up a small bite of lasagna, picking out the chicken since it didn’t mash up well, and picking up the spinach and pasta much with Patrick’s spoon. “Okay, bug, let’s open up for your first ever bite of lasagna!”

Always happy to eat, Patrick opened his mouth up wide and accepted the bite, making a happy noise and clapping his little hands together as he swallowed.

“You like that?” Aidan asked, clearly pleased. “Okay, peas are kind of gross, probably, but you’ve been such a good little guy over the past few weeks, so I think you’re going to get lasagna for the rest of your dinner.”

Dean was glad to see his son enjoying his food so much, and he picked his spoon back up to start eating his own food again. “Thank you for thinking ahead and leaving some stuff in the freezer before we went to Berlin,” he said to his husband. “I don’t think either of us could’ve cooked anything, and this is so much better than ordering in, especially because Paddy likes it.”

Patrick let out a happy noise at the sound of his own name.

“Yep, that’s you,” Dean said cheerfully. “I hate to ask, babe, but once you’ve finished with him and your food, can you help me over here?” he asked, a small apologetic tinge to his tone. “Eating by myself isn’t happening.”

Aidan nodded, slightly distracted by getting a bite into Patrick’s mouth. “No problem, babe,” he replied, using his left hand to put a bite into his own mouth even as he kept feeding his son simultaneously. “It’ll be a little while until our clothes are out of the dryer anyway.” He paused in his multitasking as he processed Dean’s words more fully. “What do you mean you hate to ask? I don’t approve of that internalized ableism bit where you don’t want to ask for help.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I know, but you’re also ridiculously busy right now,” he pointed out. “The ‘hate to ask’ part is more about how much you’re already doing, not the fact I need help.” He paused. “On the other hand, I’m getting that freaking kid into bed, and he looks a little wound up from eating all of that lasagna. I have a feeling I’ll be reading stories and trying to get him fall asleep long after you finish laundry and dishes and anything else you could possibly want to do tonight.”

“I do not envy you getting him to bed when he’s this awake,” Aidan agreed, grinning. “He’s a handful like this. We love you so much, little bug, but sometimes you are just too excited to sleep when you should,” he explained to Patrick. “I guess lasagna was just so amazing that it took you from sleepy to all over the place,” he added as he fed the little boy another bite. “Yeah, I know, lasagna is the best! It’s so yummy, yay! But you should definitely calm down so Daddy can put you to bed soon.”

Patrick showed absolutely no sign of dampening excitement, and instead bounced in his seat happily as he continued to eat

“Buddy, you are going to be the death of me tonight,” Dean groaned fondly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving to New Zealand?? Yeah, I realized it's weird for them to continue living in the UK if Aidan doesn't have to be there for work/training, since Dean could benefit from training with his team. Also, I'm really excited about the thought of him getting to be more independent and having less PCA care because he feels confident he can. He still needs some care, because that's life, but he's finding ways to be able to do more things alone as he wants to.


	43. First Chair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys see that Ireland now has gay marriage? It's the first nation to pass it via popular election. That's amazing, as homosexuality was a crime until 1993. I'm so happy for all Irish citizens!
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry it took me forever to update. I was recovering from surgery, doing finals, starting work, and getting sick. Not fun :/ Regardless, I'm back! I'll probably still be slow to update. Sorry!

“Are you ready for the most exciting day of your life, buddy?” Dean asked, grinning as he tickled Patrick on his lap. “Do you see that box in Da’s hands? That’s for you!”

Aidan was absolutely ecstatic as he put the box onto the table and began to open it. “Seriously, bug, you are going to absolutely love this,” he informed his son, unable to stop smiling as he pulled a small, red plastic contraption out of the box. “You’ve got your first wheelchair, Paddy!” he crowed, holding it up for his son to see. It was tiny, and nothing like a normal wheelchair; the bottom of the little seat part almost touched the floor, and the wheels were pure plastic, without tires or anything else. “Are you ready to try it out?” he asked, reaching out to pinch Patrick’s pudgy cheek to get the little boy’s attention.

Patrick giggled loudly and reached out toward his younger father.

“Let’s do this in the living room,” Dean suggested, steering his power chair over toward the couch, letting Aidan grab the tiny plastic wheelchair before following. “Okay, buddy, you’ve seen your daddies move around in wheelchairs every day. Well, mostly Da, since I’m using my power chair all the time, but the point is, you know how to wheel around.” Patrick, all happy, chubby, ten-month-old energy, bounced around on his older father’s lap and mumbled to himself. “Okay, here we go,” he added as Aidan slid onto the floor and put the plastic wheelchair down. “Good luck, buddy!”

Smiling, Aidan took Patrick from Dean and put the little boy into the small plastic chair, buckling him in and then backing up a bit to give him room to move. “Bug, push on the wheels like your daddies do!” he instructed cheerfully. “At least he doesn’t hate sitting in it,” he said to Dean after a minute, in which Patrick hadn’t even touched the little wheels.

“Aid, give him a hint,” Dean told his husband, rolling his eyes a little. “Put his hands on the wheels and push him a little so that he feels them move. Feel those wheels, Paddy?” he asked as Aidan took his advice and put their son’s hands on his wheels. “If you push forward, you’ll move around!”

After a bit of prodding and encouragement for Aidan, Patrick hesitantly pushed the wheels forward, clearly not sure it would be worth it. “Ee!” he yelled, shoving the wheels harder when he lurched forward a few inches. He looked up, first at Aidan and then at Dean, and clapped his hands. “Ah!” he added, still shouting in joy as he moved himself another foot.

Leaning down, Aidan dropped a kiss onto his cheerful son’s hair. “You’re growing up, aren’t you?” he praised. “Daddy and I already had to cut your hair, you’re starting to wheel, and you’ve got strong little arms. Okay, try this,” he added, reaching out to help his son move around. “Push one wheel harder than the other and you’ll turn!” he explained.

Dean watched, absolutely ecstatic, as Patrick let himself be turned. “Come see Daddy!” he prompted hopefully, now that the little boy was facing him. “I’m so proud of my little man, wheeling all by himself,” he cooed, clapping a hand against his thigh as Patrick came over toward him and then reached forward to grab his older father’s foot. “You’ve got me! Now I’ll never escape you, Paddy. You’re too strong for me.”

On the floor, Aidan just lay back and smiled. Patrick probably couldn’t spend all his time in his little wheelchair or on the floor, since Dean couldn’t lean down and pick him up, but it was still a great start. Luke still came by for about four hours each day, mostly because Dean didn’t feel comfortable cutting his hours down to practically nothing, especially when he was leaving in a few months, so Patrick could wheel around for that time. He pulled out his phone and scooted over toward his husband and son to take a few pictures. It was such a big deal for Patrick to move around in his first chair, and it was also really fucking cute. “Paddy, do you know what’s coming in two weeks?” he asked, snapping another picture when his son looked up at the sound of his name.

Unable to help himself, Dean jumped in and answered, “Your legs!” He was so excited to see his son learning to walk. “They’re going to be purple, buddy. I know we told you they’d be boring white plastic, but we got purple ones!” When Patrick turned back to look at him, he made a kissing noise at the air and waved with his right hand. “You’ll look so good in them. I bet Maimeó and Daideó are going to be so excited. When we go to Ireland to see them, they’ll take you to church and show you off to all their friends.”

At his father’s feet, Patrick started to get bored just poking at the New Zealander’s shoe and listening to him talk, and clumsily turned his chair to the right so that he could move around the living room. He was clearly happy just to push himself around, and was unconcerned when he ran into the coffee table. “Ah?” he mumbled, looking up and reaching his arms up toward Aidan when he was close to him.

“Are you done?” Aidan asked, unbuckling his son and lifting him to his hip. “That’s okay.” He kissed the little boy’s cheek and hugged him close. “I’m so proud of you for learning how to wheel so quickly. You’re so smart, bug!” he praised, bouncing Patrick a little on his hip before settling him down. “Can you sit with Daddy now so that I can make dinner? I promised Daddy I’d make him pasta with fresh mushrooms, and I went to the market on the way home and got those mushrooms. You and Daddy can read some stories while I cook, okay?” he suggested, handing Patrick over to Dean so that he could get back into his wheelchair and head into the kitchen.

Dean smiled widely and kissed his son’s cheek. “You did so well in your new chair, buddy.” He made sure that Patrick was comfortable and secure in his lap before turning his chair around. “We’re going to go to the nursery to read some stories,” he informed Aidan as he moved past the kitchen and over into their son’s room to pick out a few colorful books to read together. “Okay, little man, we are not reading any of those cardboard books right now,” he told the squirming infant in his lap firmly. “Instead, we’re going to read some ridiculously cheesy books with morals about caring for other people or whatever. Not that those morals aren’t important!” he added hastily. “These books just drive them home a little too hard.” He pulled a picture book off the shelf and opened it up.

In the kitchen, Aidan put his son’s small wheelchair out of the way against the wall before turning to the refrigerator and cabinets to get out a pasta, mushrooms, and butter and start cooking dinner. The family’s love of vegetables was not just something they said, and he knew that Dean was, along with him, absurdly excited about the fresh, wild mushrooms that he had picked up for their meal.

Once he finished with the first book, Dean gave up on reading stories and instead just talked cheerfully to his son. “I’m so proud of you, learning to wheel like that,” he praised, carefully lifting the little boy up to kiss his cheek. “I know that Da and I use wheelchairs, but we’re going to be proud of you whether you choose wheels or legs, okay? Just because Da wheels instead of using prostheses doesn’t mean you have to. We’re so excited to see you walk, buddy!”

Patrick smiled, little teeth starting to poke out from his gums, and patted his father’s face happily, babbling all the while.

“I love you too,” Dean said, smiling. “Let’s go check on dinner, okay? I bet you can try some mushrooms tonight. Da makes them with some butter, which makes them less healthy but tastes really good,” he explained, pressing the joystick of his chair to move out of the nursery and to the kitchen. “Smells great,” he told Aidan, watching as the younger man stirred the mushrooms around in a small pan.

Aidan leaned over and kissed his husband gently. “Almost done. Can you get out some food for the little bug?” he requested, turning back to the stove when a timer started beeping, signaling the pasta was done.

With some minor difficulties, Dean got out a jar of mashed carrots and a small spoon for their son. “I promise, Paddy, you’ll get some mushrooms too,” he said quietly, grinning as he slid the little boy into his highchair and buckled him in with stiff hands. “Need any help over there, babe?” he called out to Aidan, tickling their son’s chubby stomach.

“Nah,” Aidan replied, draining the pasta and tossing it into the pan with the mushrooms to mix it all up. “I’ll be ready in two minutes,” he added, sprinkling some parmesan cheese on the pasta before bringing it to the table. “Daddy’s right,” he informed Patrick, kissing his cheek before heading back into the kitchen. “You’ll get some mushrooms.” He came back with plates and forks for himself and Dean and parked himself at the table. “You good to feed yourself?” he asked his husband, spooning some pasta onto their plates.

Dean nodded, wrapping his fingers around his fork and carefully stabbing some pasta. “I figured out housing in New Zealand,” he said with a smile. “We can have an apartment on the training center campus. Rent-free. Or, like, rent deducted from my salary but I still make a good amount of money? God bless being a professional athlete,” he added. “It’s not going to be the nicest apartment, but it’ll have two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a family room. It’s basically this set-up, but on the training center and with fewer neighbors. And everyone’s disabled, so we wouldn’t hear any ableist crap, which would be a nice change.”

Aidan snorted. “Are you saying you _don’t_ like all the people who insinuate that we can’t raise a kid, or ask us how we have sex, or call you inspirational for going to the supermarket? Weird.”

From his highchair, Patrick made a loud, high-pitched noise, clearly tired of being ignored.

“I know, bug,” Aidan said, picking up the spoon and feeding his son a bite. “You’re going to like New Zealand too, I bet. Plus, this means you’ll grow up with a New Zealand accent, and ladies and men dig that. I’m living proof.”

Patrick smacked his lips around his spoonful of food and reached out his hand toward Aidan’s grinning face, his signal that he wanted more. “Ah!” he exclaimed when his younger father didn’t respond fast enough.

“We have a demanding little child,” Dean commented, shaking his head. “At least he’s cute, though.”

“That he is,” Aidan agreed, mashing up some mushrooms for their son.

* * *

By the time Luke left their apartment at nine o’clock, Dean and Aidan were both absolutely exhausted. “Remember when we used to stay up until midnight?” Dean said with a tired smile, looking over at Aidan as the younger man tugged off his clothes and pulled on cutoff pajama pants. “Those were the days.”

“Wait ‘til Paddy’s a teenager,” Aidan said, laughing a little as he slid into bed next to his husband. “We’ll be wishing we were in bed at nine instead of waiting up until midnight for him to make his curfew, and we’ll be fondly thinking of when we could just pick him up and put him in a crib when we needed him to stay in place for more than a couple seconds.”

“Nah, we’ll be cool parents who’d be up ‘til midnight anyway,” Dean argued with a grin. “Not that we wouldn’t be worrying about him or whatever, but we’d be up anyway.” He tucked his head into Aidan’s shoulder, yawning a little. “Can you stretch me out, babe?” he asked hopefully, fluttering his eyelashes teasingly.

Aidan craned his neck down and kissed his husband lovingly. “Of course,” he said softly, shifting his position so that he could take ahold of Dean’s arm and carefully begin to stretch it out. “Is this some sort of foreplay or something?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the older man’s shoulder. “It’s cool either way, but if this is foreplay, I’ll make it sexier than basic stretching.”

“I hadn’t thought of foreplay, but if you grab something from the closet, I might be, ah, _up_ for it,” Dean replied, voice getting a little deeper with arousal.

Aidan paused in his ministrations, lips just centimeters from his husband’s shoulder. “Okay, that was clearly some sort of innuendo about arousal, but what the hell are you talking about?” he asked, looking up to see the blond man’s face. “Do you want a vibe or something to help you out tonight?”

The older man snorted. “Remember how you were so curious about my pump a couple months ago? I found it and put it in the little storage box you keep the toys in. So, you know, get it out, get me hard, and do whatever the hell you want with my erection, which, if I recall, is kind of bigger when I use the pump.”

“If you recall?” Aidan repeated as he slid off the bed and into his chair and then wheeled over to the closet, rummaging around for a moment before pulling a plain white box out of the clear plastic bin that housed their modest sex toy collection. “This it?” he asked; he assumed it was, since he had never seen it before, but for all he knew, Dean had bought a few new things and put them in there recently.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. And ‘if I recall’ is because I haven’t used this thing in freaking _years_ , and I don’t really remember what it was like,” he explained, straining his neck as well as he could to kiss Aidan when the younger man got back in bed with him. “Do you know how to use one of these?” he asked; he was pragmatic and practical in bed, opting for clear communication over sexiness whenever the choice came up. It was a side effect of the difficulties of sex while paralyzed, but he was pretty sure that the sex he had at this point in his life was better than all the sex he had had back when he was able-bodied.

Aidan waved his hand in the air to indicate ‘so-so-‘ knowledge. “I have an idea of how to use it, but it’s on your dick, so I want to be sure I do it right. I’m not going to fuck up my husband’s dick because I think I’m an expert in all sex toys.” He grinned a little and rolled over to snag his phone off the bedside table. “Luckily, the internet knows everything. Especially about sex,” he added, opening up his web browser and initiating a search for penis pump instructions.

The older man laughed. “My husband just pulled out his phone to Google some shit in bed,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, Aid, you can at least start touching my nipple while you do that.”

“So bossy,” Aidan muttered, grinning as he reached over with his arm stump and began to rub of his husband’s right nipple. “I swear, Dean, the things I do for you.” He kept clicking around on his phone with his free hand, looking for good directions on how to use the plastic device that sat next to him on the bed. “What? There isn’t a WikiHow article on using a penis pump?” he groused, switching to a general search for instructions. “Okay, here we go,” he muttered to himself, putting his phone down on the bed so that he could glance at it as he got the pump onto his husband and carefully started squeezing the little ball to start the pressure in the tube that would draw blood into his husband’s cock.

Dean sighed a little and relaxed into the pillows, his right arm looping around Aidan’s shoulders. “Okay, when you’re done pumping it, you can take the pump off but leave the ring on, and that way I’ll stay that hard for sex. We can take the ring off once you come and then get me off,” he explained, looking down in fascination as his penis lengthened within the clear tube of the pump. “This is bigger than usual, right? I mean, pumps are used by abled guys to try to make them bigger anyway, but also my cock has trouble getting totally hard and staying that way.”

Aidan looked closely at the pump. “Yeah, it might be a bit bigger. I’ve never thought it was anything less than great, though, so whatever. I just like that it’s easier for you to get it up so we can be quick, just this once, you know?” he said, putting down the squeeze ball of the pump down so that he could reach around and finger himself, leaning down to kiss Dean as he did so. “Shit!” he gasped into the older man’s mouth when his two fingers stung a little.

“Should’ve started with one,” Dean chastised, smirking, and jerked his chin until Aidan took the hint and bent back down to kiss him deeply. He pulled his head back when he needed to breathe, panting hard. “Fuck, you look good,” he muttered, watching as his husband’s face pinched a little and then relaxed as he added a third finger.

The younger man grinned, though the expression was a little strained as he kept opening himself up. “God, I can’t believe how quick this is going to be,” he groaned. “In a good way,” he added hastily. “Like, with the pump you can get it up so fast, so we can start and have a quickie.” He stopped his explanation to take his fingers out of himself and turning his attention to the pump that was around his husband’s cock, removing it but leaving the rubber ring around the base of Dean’s impressive erection. “Yeah, I think it is bigger,” he said conversationally, positioning the thick cock with one hand and sinking down onto it with a loud moan.

“Don’t get used to it,” Dean breathed, head tilting back at the feeling of Aidan’s tight body sliding down on his cock. “This pump is going to be for special occasions only, like your next birthday or something.” He reached a hand down and stroked his knuckles down the short but sensitive length of the younger man’s thigh. “You aren’t going to lose those sexy arms just because you’re retiring right?” he asked in a teasing but breathless tone.

Aidan shook his head, starting to rock slowly on top of his husband. “I’ll keep them nice and strong, just for you,” he answered, leaning down to bite gently at Dean’s sensitive neck.

“Fuck!” Dean gasped, arching his neck as a spark of pleasure mixed with pain shot through him. “Shit, you’re good in bed.” He pressed his knuckles into his husband’s side roughly to give back a little bit of the rough.

“I really am,” Aidan agreed, smirking, and then grabbed hold of the headboard to start bouncing on the older man’s lap. “God, Dean,” he grunted, barely restraining himself from yelling out loudly when his husband’s thick cock dug firmly into his prostate. “That’s… yeah!” he cried softly, burying his face in the junction between Dean’s shoulder and neck.

Below the brunet, Dean turned his head to the side, needing to do _something_ physical to express the pleasure he felt. The pump didn’t really make a difference except in timing, but the arousal from the mere thought of a quickie was helping. “Can you…” He didn’t managed to finish the sentence, gasping loudly when Aidan slammed down on his hips and practically knocked the wind out of him.

“Shit,” Aidan swore, stopping all movement except for small twitches of his hips that he couldn’t quite control. “You okay? Sorry, that was…”

Dean huffed out a breathless laugh. “M’fine,” he muttered. “I wanted you to fuck around with my nipples, though, so if you feel guilty, that’d make it up to me,” he added, and bit his lip to keep quiet when Aidan did as requested and pinched his right nipple roughly. He watched his husband’s face through hooded eyes as the younger man began to move with purpose again, pulling himself up to slam down.

“God!” Aidan groaned, using his right arm to move himself as the left stayed occupied with Dean’s sensitive nipple. “You feel so good, babe,” he whispered, squeezing himself around the older man’s hard cock.

“I bet I do,” Dean teased, running his hand over Aidan’s firm ass. “You can let go of my nipple to get yourself off. We’ll wait ‘til you’re done so we can take off the cock ring and get me off,” he explained, grinning a little when the brunet did as he was told and wrapped his hand around his own leaking erection.

Aidan let out a shaky breath, his right arm shaking as it propped him up. “Fuck,” he moaned, angling himself so that Dean’s cock rubbed hard against his prostate as he jerked himself off with sharp strokes. He shuddered as he felt his balls drawing up close to his body with each passing second. “Talk to me,” he begged, looking down at his husband’s gorgeous face, pinched in arousal.

“You look so fucking good,” Dean said immediately, intimately familiar and comfortable with talking someone off. “You take my cock like you were made for it, babe, and seeing you jerk off… I bet I could get an erection just from watching that,” he continued, voice pitched deep with arousal. “I want you to come all over my chest, Aid, and you can lick it or feed it to me or whatever the fuck you want while you get me off after with those talented little fingers.” He shuddered a bit when Aidan choked on his own breath. “You like the thought of that, do you? God, I do too. Come on, babe, come all over me, make me disgusting and sticking and completely fucking _yours_.”

With a choked groan, Aidan gave himself one more rough stroke before spilling himself across his husband’s golden skin, thick, translucent semen shooting up to cover the older man’s chest hair. “Fuck, yes!” he cried, sighing in pleasure as he finished and collapsed on Dean. “Oh! Yeah, that’s still… one moment,” he mumbled, grinning as he maneuvered himself off of his husband’s erection. “Let’s get that ring off.” He reached down and carefully worked the rubber ring off of Dean before tossing it aside. “You said something about me feeding you my come, didn’t you?” he asked, scooping a little of the warm fluid up with two fingers.

“I love when you get all dominant,” Dean mumbled, opening his mouth obediently and sucking on the younger man’s fingers, swirling his tongue around teasingly and letting his eyes drift closed. He almost bit down on the fingers in his mouth when Aidan suddenly pinched his nipple. “God!” he groaned around the digits. “Please.” He let out a disappointed moan when Aidan took his fingers from his mouth, but was placated when the younger man brought them back, covered in more come.

This wasn’t something that they usually did, but Aidan enjoyed it. The way it turned Dean on, the minor power dynamic that wasn’t exploiting physical differences, and the porny-ness of the whole thing all made it wonderful and illicit and hot. “You look so hot like this, babe, I want you to come for me,” he whispered, his right arm rubbing at a hard, swollen nipple to keep the older man going. “Can you get off for me, babe? Can you?”

Dean nodded, still sucking on his husband’s fingers. He wanted to please him, getting into the submissive role surprisingly quickly. “Aid,” he gasped around the digits, shifting a little to press his chest up into the younger man’s hand as well as he could. “I’m gonna…” he mumbled, fingers jumbling up his words as he felt the arousal in his body come to a head, all his sensation focused on the pleasure emanating from his chest and practically exploding with Aidan’s next pinch.

The older man was beautiful when he came, and the brunet watched fondly before gently pulling his fingers out of his husband’s mouth. “That was different but, uh, pretty fucking hot,” he said a little shyly, reaching over to the bedside table and finding a wet wipe to clean Dean off with. “You’re still hard, but that’s cool for tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered; it happened sometimes, and he didn’t mind in the least. He’d come, it had been amazing, and his dick wasn’t bothering him. “It was hot,” he agreed, smiling, “Mm, we’re good to get up at six, right?” he asked.

Aidan nodded, flicking off the light and snuggling up to Dean’s shoulder. “I love you, babe,” he said softly. “G’night.”

“I love you too.”


	44. Walking, etc.

“Dean, you look like you’re about to faint. He’ll be fine,” Aidan said, looking up from his seat on the floor. His husband, sitting in his power chair, was a little pale and had his lower lip between his teeth. “Seriously, I’m sure you fell over a million times learning to stand up, and I’m right here for him.” Not sure if he’d ever get the blond to calm down, he instead turned to the little boy in his lap. “Okay, bug, let’s get these little legs on you,” he told his son happily, kissing his chubby cheek before carefully putting a purple plastic leg over the boy’s left stump. “That’s one!” he crowed, working on attaching the second prosthesis as Patrick kicked around with the first one, looking amazed.

Up above, Dean was still not calm. His precious son could fall down and hit his head! He had never used legs for anything, and he was going right to standing up. That seemed dangerous. “Paddy, sweetie, I want you to be careful,” he cautioned. “You too,” he added to Aidan, pretending not to notice how the Irishman rolled his eyes. “Are those legs fun?” he asked his son, relaxing a little as he watched the little boy kick around with short, plastic legs. “Yeah, they look pretty fun.”

“Are you ready for the big moment?” Aidan asked, directing the question to both of the others in the room. Patrick still looked absolutely enthralled with the legs that were attached to his thighs, and Dean still looked mildly terrified, and he took that as ready enough. “Bug, it might be a bit scary at first, but it’ll be okay,” he said in a calm, even voice as he carefully lifted Patrick up and settled his weight over the prosthetic legs. “Look who’s standing!”

Despite his worries, Dean felt a huge swell of pride when he saw Patrick standing. “Good job, buddy,” he praised, smiling widely. He was able to quell his anxiety as he watched Aidan keep his hands around their son’s waist. “Wow! You’re standing up for the first time ever!” He felt a little close to tears as he watched Patrick smile widely and look up at him. “I’m so proud of you!”

Patrick clapped his small hands together and made a happy little noise, turning towards Aidan. The turn was too complicated for someone standing for the first time, and he pitched forward into his younger father’s lap.

“Oops!” Aidan said cheerfully, lifting Patrick back up so that he was standing again, still smiling and giggling a little. “See, Dean? Babies fall down and get back up just fine,” he told his husband, leaning forward and kissing Patrick’s cheek.

“I know, I know,” Dean muttered, grinning widely. “I’m definitely the worrier out of the two of us.” He flicked a button on his power chair and tilted it back. “Okay, getting this new chair was such a good decision on my part,” he groaned, letting his weight shift to a different part of his body. “Paddy, look at you!” he cooed happily. “Do you think Da can take a picture of you standing? It needs to go to Grandma and Grandpa, Maimeó and Daideó, and on Daddy’s Facebook page to show everyone. I bet everybody is going to be excited for you. It helps that you’re the cutest little guy in the world with those purple legs on.”

Taking the hint, Aidan pulled out his phone and, using one hand to steady his son, took a few pictures of the little boy. “I’m so proud of my big strong guy,” he praised, lifting Patrick onto his hip. “Do you want to go sit with Daddy? You can keep your legs on just to play with,” he added, scooting across the floor and lifting Patrick up to Dean’s lap. “I love you, bug,” he said, making sure their son was secure in Dean’s lap before scooting away to get back in his own wheelchair.

“Try not to kick me, buddy, ‘cause I won’t feel it if you bruise me,” Dean told Patrick, settling the small child in his lap and playing with his hair as he kicked his new prostheses happily. “New legs are fun, aren’t they? Just like your new wheelchair is. You can use both as much as you want.” He looked over at Aidan. “What if we put his chair and legs next to each other in the nursery and let him choose sometimes?” he suggested. “I mean, he needs time with both, but it’d be nice for him to get to choose sometimes, even as a little kid.”

“We can try that,” Aidan agreed, taking a few more pictures with his phone once he was settled back in his chair. “Paddy, do you like the idea of getting to choose?” he asked, rolling up close to his husband’s wheelchair to give him a quick kiss. “Do you, bug?”

From Dean’s lap, Patrick smiled up at Aidan and reached up toward him, gladly grabbing his curly hair and pulling it roughly. He was briefly disappointed when his younger father carefully untangled his hand from his hair, but started to kick his new legs and was soon distracted by the sheer joy of the movement of the purple plastic. “Roo!” he yelled, pointing down at them and then at Aidan, wanting to see his reaction.

“Yeah,” Aidan said encouragingly, looking obediently where his son pointed. “Why don’t we put a movie or something on while he plays around with his legs?” he suggested to his husband, looking at the pair happily. “Look, I know it’d be pretty hard, but we could get you on the floor to be there while he stands.”

Dean snorted. “I don’t doubt that we could get me on the floor, it’s the getting me back to my chair that I worry about,” he pointed out. “I’m all for trying, though, ‘cause I want to help Paddy stand up. We can always call someone to help if I get stuck, but we can probably get me from the floor to the couch, and the couch to my chair. If we have to, we can get me in my manual first, since the armrests on that fold up.” He craned his neck to kiss Patrick’s hair. “Do you want Daddy to help you stand, buddy?”

Patrick giggled happily, and Dean took that as a yes.

“Okay, I’ll get on the floor,” the New Zealander said, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Da’s going to put you in your play crib for a couple minutes to get me on the floor, and then you can stand with me!” He shook his head. “I haven’t stood up in over six years, and it’s been almost twenty for Da, and here we are teaching you.”

“Eh, standing up doesn’t take a lot of teaching,” Aidan pointed out. “Here, Paddy, play in here for a minute,” he added, picking up their son and putting him in the low crib that they used as a playpen. He made sure that the infant was happy there with a couple stuffed toys and turned back to his husband. “Okay, getting you on the floor,” he muttered, trying to figure out how they were going to do this. Getting Dean down on the floor would surely be easier than getting him up, but that didn’t make it simple by any stretch of the imagination.

Dean made eye contact with his husband and shrugged his right shoulder stiffly. “How about we do a transfer to the couch and then put me on the ground from there? I think that’s the best option,” he said, getting his chair back up from its tilt and moving over next to the sofa. “Okay, Paddy, watch Daddy get on the floor for the first time in years. If I fall, we blame Da,” he added cheerfully, wrapping arm around his husband and letting the younger man lift him out of his wheelchair and onto the couch. He sank down a little harder than would be ideal, but it was good enough, considering the odd angle that the Irishman was lifting from. “Thanks, babe,” he said, letting Aidan slide him off the couch and onto the floor. “This is weird,” he commented honestly, lying down on his left side so that his more mobile right hand was free to hold Patrick.

Once he was sure that Dean was comfortable on the ground, Aidan grinned widely. “Weird, but awesome, right?” he said, moving over to the crib and lifting Patrick out. “You get to stand with Daddy, bug!” he explained, glad to their son’s face light up when he saw Dean on the floor. “You love Daddy a lot, don’t you?”

“I love you too, buddy,” Dean told his son, giving him a kiss when Aidan sat him on the floor near his chest. “Okay, I can’t help you stand up the same way Da did, but I think I can help you somehow.” He carefully guided Patrick’s left hand over to his side so that the boy could grip his shirt tightly to pull himself up. “Good job,” he praised when Patrick did so, using his hand to help steady the wobbly infant. “You’re so good at this already, buddy! It’s only your first day and you’re already great! I’m so proud of you, and I know Da is too.”

“Definitely,” Aidan supplied, smiling as he watched his family. Dean was stiff and awkward on the floor—his wheelchairs were made to put him in the best position for comfort and movement, but the floor was not—and Patrick was pretty much holding himself up without support, but it was sweet to see them together, both grinning widely. “You guys have the same smile right now,” Aidan said, feeling a little giddy as he took a few pictures of his husband and son. “It’s so cute.”

Dean craned his neck awkwardly to try to see Patrick’s smile better; he could really only see his son’s back, but he was sure it was cute. “I’m sure people are going to start saying we look exactly alike,” he teased, feeling extremely happy with that little moment. “I like that we have the same smile. You two share something physical with your amputations, and we can share a smile.”

The younger man nodded cheerfully. “He’s got dimples, just like his Daddy,” he cooed, waving at Patrick and delighting in the way the little boy giggled back at him. “I know it’s only a month, but maybe he’ll be good enough on those to take them to the Grand Prix in Canada and walk around a bit. If any of your friends are there, they’d love to see that.”

“We should take them even if he isn’t very good with them,” Dean replied. “He can practice in the hotel room or hanging out with our friends.” He paused. “Are you sure you’re okay without Luke going? That could be a lot of work for you.”

Aidan nodded firmly. “We’ll be fine. Manu, bless him, got a hotel room right next to ours, so he can look after Paddy while I get your dressed or showered, if we need any help. As long as you’re comfortable without Luke, I’m fine.” He leaned over to smile at Patrick. “Are you excited to see Canada? We’re going to go to Montreal and then we’re going to come home and then we’re going to move to New Zealand, where Daddy’s from. Are you excited?”

On the floor, Patrick just wobbled on his new legs and clutched his older father’s jeans tightly in a small hand, babbling to himself and his parents.

“Yeah, you sound excited.”

* * *

Dean was on the track once again, feeling excited. He was more confident since he had set a couple world records, and this race could net him another one. He liked the 800 meters pretty well, and his last time had been close to the current T52 record. He took a few deep breaths, enjoying the fresh Canadian air, and got in a good starting position. He was off at the shot of the gun, pushing to the front of the pack quickly. He was going strong for a minute, pushing himself as hard as he could go, and he was feeling good. It took one second, though, for that to change.

In the stands, Aidan could feel his heart thundering in his chest, and he held Patrick close. “No, no, no,” he whispered, watching in terror as Pace’s front wheel hit one of Dean’s back ones and the New Zealander’s chair flipped over on the side. He wanted to dash over to the track, but he couldn’t hold Patrick and move quickly. “Manu, I need you to…”

The larger man didn’t need Aidan to finish his sentence, and he took the small child from his arms. “He’s okay, this is why they wear helmets,” he told Aidan, but made no move to stop the Irishman as he wheeled away quickly, heading toward the New Zealand coaches. Even as Dean’s chair rolled over a second time, Pace’s and another competitor’s, Mikael Persbrant’s, following suit, there were coaches and officials spilling out onto the brown-red surface of the track, clearly going to help the athletes. Manu had heard about crashes like this, but had never seen one. In his lap, Patrick started fussing a little. “It’s okay, your Daddy’s okay,” he said in a soothing voice.

On the track, Dean breathed heavily, taking a moment to recognize that he had stopped rolling and was on his side. “Pace?” he croaked after a moment, seeing the other man a meter away. “Lee? You okay?”

The American tilted his head, looking at him. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m so sorry, man, I got a little out of control and…”

“It’s fine,” Dean interrupted. “It was an accident, mate. I get that. Who else went down?”

Lee scooted his head on the track to look around a bit. “Persbrant, from Sweden. He looks okay too,” he responded. “Dean, I think you’re bleeding,” he added when he turned back to the New Zealander. “Your torso.”

Dean couldn’t figure out looking down in his awkward position. “Shit,” he said succinctly. He sighed in relief when he saw legs and wheels coming into his eye line. “Hey,” he called out weakly. “Hey, guys, I wouldn’t mind a little help,” he added, slowly pulling himself out of his racing chair using his hands.

“Stop moving,” his coach instructed as he wheeled up. “You’ve torn open your side and moving is going to open it up more. We’ll get you up, okay?” he said, and then turned away. “No, he needs to stay back for now, he can see him once we get him to the stretcher, “ he instructed another man, one Dean couldn’t see. When the younger New Zealander looked confused, he grinned. “Your husband looks like he’s about to put those murderball muscles to use to get to you.”

“Aid,” Dean called out. “Calm down. I’m fine.”

From somewhere to his left, Dean heard a snort.

“It’s true,” he protested. “I’ll go to the hospital, maybe get a couple stitches, and be fine.” He groaned as his tired muscles were stretched by people carefully picking him up and putting him on a stretcher. “Make sure my chair gets to the hospital, okay?” he told his coach, and then smiled at Aidan as the younger man came over. “Fine,” he repeated. He glanced down to see both Lee and Mikael getting back the right way up in their chairs and felt relieved that they were both okay. “Stitches are easy as hell when you can’t feel pain where they are.”

Aidan sighed. “I’ll call Manu to tell him to bring Paddy once we know what hospital we’re going to, okay?” He followed his husband’s stretcher across the track, worried no matter how many times Dean insisted he was all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Dean recently went to a Grand Prix in this, but there are multiple ones per year. There was one in Switzerland in the past couple weeks, and there was a crash in one of the men's races that involved multiple chairs flipping. It's really scary stuff. I put a crash in this story because Dean's racing history here has been absolutely perfect, and I thought there should be a little more grit to it. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	45. Hospital

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said tiredly, smiling as Aidan put their son on the hospital bed on his right side. His left side had fifteen stitches in it, and he was still a little pale from losing blood. “How are you doing? Did you have fun with Manu today?”

Patrick sighed softly and snuggled into Dean’s shoulder. He could obviously tell something was wrong with his Daddy, and he was content to lie down with him and just be close.

Next to the bed, Aidan smiled at his son’s sweet behavior. “See? I wasn’t the only one who was worried,” he teased gently, leaning over to kiss Dean’s shoulder and Patrick’s head. “These stitches are going to come out in a week, right? I don’t want you to be packing up to move with stitches in your side. You wouldn’t feel if you popped them open.”

“Yeah, but I’d see the blood,” Dean pointed out, yawning a little. In the time it took to get him off the track, to the hospital, and stitched up, he’d lost enough blood to make him utterly exhausted. “They come out in a week. We’re still going to be here.” He sighed. “I can’t believe this happened in my first race. I can’t compete to hold my records.”

Aidan knew how important racing was to Dean; he had been a professional athlete as well, and he had felt that same burning need to compete and win. “I know, babe, but I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, petting through his husband’s hair. “And I bet Paddy feels the same way. He just wants his Daddy to be there to hold him and love him.” He laughed a little through his nose, shaking his head. “The time we decide to do a trip without Luke, you get injured and need more careful lifting. Thank God for Manu,” he added.

Patrick seemed a little bored with the conversation that was happening above his head and didn’t involve him, so he tugged at his older father’s hospital gown. “Dada?” he said quietly.

Both of the men looked at Patrick in surprise and delight.

“Did our little guy just say his first word?” Dean asked the smiling infant. “I’m so proud of you!” He craned his neck and kissed his son’s fluffy black hair. “You know just how to cheer Daddy up after an injury, don’t you?”

Patrick smiled up at the New Zealander, showing his four teeth. “Dada!” he repeated, clearly enjoying the attention that he got for saying his first word. “Dada!”

“That’s right, that’s Daddy. Good job!” Aidan praised, using the hand that wasn’t in Dean’s hair to tickle Patrick’s stomach and make the little boy giggle. “I guess we know who your favorite parent is,” he teased, glad to see that his son was still cuddling close to Dean and comforting him. “Babe, do you know if you’ll get out of the hospital today, or are they keeping you overnight?”

“I think I’ll be out this afternoon,” Dean answered. “They want to watch me for a few hours, since I lost a bit of blood and they’re a little worried about a wound in my left side since I don’t feel it.” He smiled. “I think I’m going to nap while I’m here, ‘cause I’m exhausted.”

Aidan nodded, taking Patrick off of the bed; he felt bad when the little boy made grabby hands at his older father, clearly not wanting to be moved, but Dean needed some rest. “I’m going to go figure out when you’ll get out, and I’ll call Manu to help us get you into your chair and back to the hotel. I’ll text both of our parents to tell them about Paddy’s first word!” he added happily, pressing his lips against his husband’s forehead. “You take a nap. We’ll be hanging around the hospital for you, okay?”

Dean didn’t have time to fall asleep right away, because just two minutes after Aidan left the room with Patrick, Lee rolled in, followed by an able-bodied man. The American athlete wasted no time and immediately launched into an apology, looking genuinely distressed as he spoke. “I am so sorry, Dean, I moved to that inner lane a few inches too late and I am really, really sorry.”

“Seriously, it’s okay,” Dean said, giving the other man an exhausted smile to try to make him feel less guilty. “You didn’t mean to or anything, and the most important thing is that everyone is okay.”

Lee looked at Dean like he had never heard anything so ridiculous. “What the hell do you mean? You’re literally lying in a hospital bed with stitches in your side, man.” He rolled his eyes, and seemed to catch a glimpse of the man behind him as he did. “Shit, I totally forgot to introduce my PCA. This is Elijah.”

“Hey,” Elijah said with a little wave. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, nodding a little. “It’s nice to meet you.” He hadn’t seen the other American at the Grand Prix in Berlin, but it made sense that Lee had a PCA if they had similar levels of impairment. “Are you doing any distances less than the 800?” he asked Lee.

The other athlete shook his head. “I’m more of a distance guy,” he admitted. “This was the first time I’d tried 800 in a world competition. Apparently I wasn’t ready for it,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.

“Without the crash, you’d probably have come in second or third,” Dean pointed out. “That’s damn good for your first time at worlds. I’m going to have to fight you in Tokyo next year, mate.”

Lee grinned, though it was small, and he clearly still felt terrible for what had happened. “Your husband plays murderball, right? Who’s going to take care of your kid while you two are in the athletes’ village?”

“He’s retiring, actually,” Dean explained, glad that Lee was hanging around to talk. He liked meeting fellow wheelchair racers, and it was nice to have friends with the same disability as him, as they could easily understand each other’s lives. “Ireland probably can’t make it to Tokyo anyway, and he didn’t want to go back to Dublin every weekend to practice since we have a kid. We’re actually moving to New Zealand next month.”

“Really?” Lee said, surprised at the news. “Hey, man, where’s your PCA?” he asked, realizing that he hadn’t seen the able-bodied brunet that had been with Dean during the Berlin competition.

With a smile, Dean responded, “I’m trying to do a little less time with a PCA, since Aidan can help me in the morning and at night. ‘Course, the first time we go away without him, I’m going to need to be lifted totally instead of just helped,” he added with a wry smile.

Elijah glanced at Lee and then at Dean. “Are you staying at the Hilton?” he asked, and smiled when he received a nod. “That’s where we are, so I could probably come to your room to help with a few lifts if you need it. If you’re cool with that,” he added to Lee, who grinned and nodded.

“It’s the least I could do,” Lee said. “Elijah’s got free time anyway. We’d just be hanging out, and I injured you, so we can help you.”

Dean smiled. “That’d be great, but I don’t know if we’ll need it. You know Manu Bennett from my team? Single ATK amputee? Giant, part-Maori guy? He took care of Patrick while Aid and I came to the hospital. He’s in the room next to us and I think he’s going to come over and help when I shower and get ready for bed. Can I have your number, just in case, though?” he asked, gesturing a little toward his phone on the little table next to his bed.

“Yeah, of course,” Lee said, knocking the phone into his lap and carefully putting his number and, on second thought, Elijah’s number into it before putting it back. “Just text one of us if you need something. And we should do dinner some night. I’m doing three more events, but I’m staying the whole week and a half, so we should have time for that.” He was glad that Dean smiled in response, because he was honestly anxious that the other man hated him for crashing into him and causing him to flip and get a bunch of stitches. “Look, you should probably get some rest, but text me later if you need help or want to figure out dinner, okay?”

Dean nodded and bade goodbye to the two Americans, relaxing back into the pillows of the bed. He was utterly exhausted; he’d had an adrenaline crash after the stress of the race and flipping over, and that paired with losing more than a little blood was catching up to him. It only took him a few minutes to fall asleep.

* * *

When Dean woke up, he was still tired. He felt like he had somehow gotten reverse sleep, that his body was even more worn out than when he had closed his eyes earlier. He glanced to the right, noticing that Aidan and Patrick weren’t in the room, and he wondered if he had only slept for a few minutes since Lee had left. As he looked down to check if his position was good for his body, he did a double take. That was definitely blood. Blood was bad. It was supposed to stay in your body, not out of it. He leaned over and, feeling sluggish, managed to hit the nurse call button with his wrist.

A couple minutes later, a nurse came in. “Do you need something, dear?” she asked, smiling, but her face dropped when she looked down, and she took a couple steps so that she was by the doorway and could look out of the room. “Call Dr. Jameson,” she instructed someone in the hallway. “He’s popped his stitches and bled a lot.”

Dean watched, feeling exhausted beyond belief, as the doctor that had stitched him up earlier came into the room. “I don’t know what happened,” he told him, unsure if his voice sounded strange or if the odd timber and pace of it was just in his head. “I woke up and there was blood.”

“It’s okay, Dean,” the doctor told him soothingly, pulling aside the New Zealander’s gown to inspect the cut. The gown itself was soaked in blood, and he had to wipe the skin of the blond man’s torso to get a look at the injury. “We’re going to have to stitch this up again. The skin seems to have all been torn up by the track, so the stitches came out without you moving at all. You’re looking really pale,” he added with a concerned expression. “We’re going to have to stitch that up again and we’ll keep you overnight to make sure they don’t come out again,” he explained after prodding a little at the wound. “Nurse, could you get me a suture kit?”

“I already had stitches,” Dean argued, feeling too tired to understand what his doctor was telling him. “You don’t put stitches on stitches.”

Dr. Jameson looked closely at the man on the bed. “Dean, can you tell me what day it is?”

Dean blinked up at the Canadian, confused. “It’s cold in here,” he complained, trying to grab the blanket with his right hand but missing it. “I don’t feel so good.”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Dean, and that’s why you’re cold and feel bad,” the doctor explained calmly. “We’re going to give you some donor blood and make sure that wound stays shut. Do you understand?” He paused so that he could get a nod from Dean. “Let’s bring his husband in to tell him about this,” he instructed the nurse, remembering the curly-haired Irishman from earlier.

Aidan was not prepared for what he found when he was ushered into the small room that held his husband; the older man was pale and shivering, with a large blood stain all around his side. “Deano? Babe?” he said, trying to keep his voice steady instead of hysterical. “What happened? He was fine when I left the room an hour ago!”

“The skin was damaged around the stitches from his fall, and the stitches tugged at it and came out. It must’ve been while he was sleeping, because he lost a lot of blood,” Dr. Jameson explained. “We’d like you to sign off for him to receive donor blood, and we’ll keep him overnight. We don’t want this to happen again when he’s too far away for immediate help.”

“Was no one checking on him? How did he have time to bleed that much? He shouldn’t have to hit the call button for someone to realize he’s practically bleeding out in your hospital!” Aidan growled; since he couldn’t help Dean at that moment, all of his nervous and terrified energy was going to anger at the situation. “I’ll sign the damn paper, just help him already!” He took the clipboard from the nurse almost viciously and scrawled his name on the line at the bottom.

On the bed, Dean was simply confused and cold. There were people moving above him frantically, and he was pretty sure he could hear Aidan’s voice somewhere else in the room, but he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. He just let his eyes slip closed, electing just to listen instead of trying to watch.

“Aid, he’s been crying and he’s not—“ Manu began as he walked into the room, but he stopped. “Shit!” he gasped, momentarily forgetting to censor himself around his friends’ kid. “We’ll be in the waiting room.” He took the infant out of the room with him, a little bounce to his walk to try to calm the sobbing boy. “It’s okay, Paddy, Daddy’s going to be just fine. The doctors are helping him right now, and doctors can always help people. Let’s calm down and stop crying, okay?”

An hour later, Aidan came back into the waiting room, looking exhausted. “He’s doing okay,” he informed Manu, taking a sleeping Patrick from the Kiwi’s arms. “They gave him a unit of blood and managed to stitch his side up. He’s out for now, but he should wake up in an hour or two.”

“Are you okay?” Manu asked softly. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Aidan nodded, pressing a kiss into Patrick’s hair. “I’ll be okay. Let’s go to the café over there and get some tea or something,” he suggested, pointing at the small coffee shop that was off the side of the waiting room. He handed Patrick off to Manu so that they New Zealander could carry him as they crossed the room.

In the café, they found a high chair for Patrick and put him in it; luckily, he had his prosthetic legs on, which stuck out through the little leg holes in the seat and made him more stable. “I’ll get something for all of us,” Manu told Aidan, leaving the Irishman with his son as he went to the counter and bought two cups of tea and a cup of berries, which he thought would be good for Patrick. He came back to the table a couple minutes later, putting everything down before opening the berry cup and taking out a few blueberries. “Here you go, buddy,” he said, holding the berries out to Patrick and letting him take one from his hand. “Yeah, that’s yummy, isn’t it?”

Patrick stuffed the berry in his mouth and chewed it a little, smiling widely at the taste before picking up another. “Da!” he yelped out, brandishing the blueberry at his father.

Despite his worries, Aidan’s face lit up. “Wow, you said both of your daddies’ names today, bug!” he said excitedly, taking the berry from his son’s hand and popping it in his mouth. “Mm, that’s good. Thank you!” He grabbed his tea and took a sip, sighing softly. “We’re going to see Daddy in an hour or so, okay? And then we’ll go back to the hotel room, ‘cause Daddy has to stay here in the hospital overnight so that his stitches can’t open again.” He paused. “I guess we have to get dinner at some point too.”

“I’m driving you back to the hotel,” Manu pointed out, “and I need something to eat too. We can stop for dinner, or get take-out if you want to just get back to the hotel. I know you’re tired after all of this. Do you need to pick up anything for Patrick? We can probably find a supermarket to pick something up.”

Aidan shook his head. “We’ve got formula and we bought some jars of baby food when we got here,” he replied. “Is it rude if I just want take-out? I’m not good company right now anyway,” he added with a rueful smile, sipping at his tea. “This has just really thrown me off. God, how do I even parent without Dean? Even for a night? He’s calm when I’m stressed and sometimes he can get Paddy to stop crying when I can’t, and…”

“It’s one night, Aid,” Manu said calmly. “You can survive it. You might be tired as hell, but you can do it. We’ll get some take-out, and if you need anything, even just someone to take Patrick so you can shower and freak out and cry, just text me, yeah? This is a stressful time for your first night as a solo parent.”

“Thanks, man,” Aidan replied softly, and then looked over at Patrick. “Bug, do you want to try some tea?” he asked, pulling a bottle out of his wheelchair bag and pouring a bit of tea into it before setting it aside to cool off. “My little guy’s first sip of tea. I’ll have to take pictures for Maimeó. Between that and you saying Da and Dada, you’re having a big day.” He sighed and tried to put a smile on his face, not wanting to bring his son down along with him. “We can get a good sleep tonight and pick Daddy up from the hospital and take him back to the hotel and snuggle with him all day tomorrow.”

In his high chair, Patrick smiled at his father and ate another berry, the purple and red juices staining his mouth. Now that Dean wasn’t sick in front of him, he didn’t have that innate understanding that something was wrong, and was relatively cheerful. On the other hand, he realized that something was missing, and used his first word again. “Dada?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working nine hour days and volunteering at my church, so I'm swamped. Sorry if I take a while to update or the updates aren't so great!


	46. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I take a while to update. I've started having major sleep problems again, which I haven't had in a while.

Dean felt sort of human when his husband and son entered his hospital room the next morning at 8:30—right at the start of visiting hours. “How are my boys?” he asked, smiling and trying to wake himself up a little more. “I missed you two last night. It was lonely in here.”

Immediately, Patrick reached out toward his older father. “Dada!” he said excitedly, practically diving into Dean’s arms once he was lifted toward the bed.

“I guess you missed me too,” the New Zealander said fondly, kissing Patrick’s head and wrapping his right arm around him carefully. “Look at you with your legs on again! You’re Daddy’s little walker, aren’t you?” he cooed. Until he had a larger wheelchair and wheeled himself well, it wasn’t very practical for Patrick to take his chair out and about, since they wouldn’t have somewhere to put it when he needed to be in his stroller, so he mostly used his legs when he went out of the house with his parents. “Were you good for Da last night?”

“He was,” Aidan answered, rolling up close and kissing Dean’s cheek. “He definitely missed you, though. He said ‘Dada’ a lot and cried for a while. I don’t think he could understand why you weren’t there.” He smiled as he looked at his husband’s face; the blond had more color in his cheeks and didn’t look near death, like he had yesterday. “How are you feeling, babe?”

Dean looked away from Patrick’s smiling face to grin at Aidan. “About a million times better,” he told the younger man honestly. “I’ve got a pretty big dressing on my side, though. I hope you like really big, weird, scrape-y scars, because you’re going to be seeing one for the rest of your life,” he added teasingly.

“I bet it’ll be a hot scar that shows how badass you are,” Aidan replied, leaning down to kiss Dean’s shoulder where the hospital gown had slid off. “The skin’s holding together well enough to heal, though, right? I don’t want you bleeding again, babe, that was really dangerous.”

“It’s all sewed up with a tight dressing, and they made sure to sew where they could actually get good skin, instead of the ripped-up crap that they got yesterday,” Dean explained. “We still have to be careful with Daddy,” he told his son seriously. “Manu is going to help lift me up because it’s going to be hard for Da to do everything.” He kissed the little boy’s hair lovingly. “I’m really happy that I’m okay, because I love you two so much.”

For the next few hours, Aidan sat by the bed and Patrick curled up on Dean’s chest. Around noon, Manu appeared with lunch and a huge smile. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he told Dean as he leaned down and hugged him. “You scared the hell out of us, you egg,” he added in a teasingly accusing tone, bumping his forehead gently against the smaller man’s gently before straightening up. “I’m used to seeing you with ice packs all over you after a race, but you never go to the hospital.”

“Daddy can’t regulate his body temperature,” Dean explained to the babbling child on his chest. “After a race, sometimes I can’t cool down and my coach or PCA or teammates have to put ice packs on my so that I don’t overheat.”

“Dada,” Patrick answered cheerfully, gripping the fabric of Dean’s hospital gown and waving it around as much as possible. His younger father had taken off his prosthetics when he had kicked them against his other father’s stomach too much, so he had to play around with his hands.

Dean grinned. “Yeah, that’s me,” he answered happily. “Did you bring that food to share?” he asked Manu, looking at his fellow New Zealander hopefully. “I could use some help eating, but I want some of that food.”

“I’m not that big of a dick,” Manu said, smirking. “I’m not going to bring food to the hospital and eat it without giving you any. I got you a grilled chicken salad,” he explained, pulling a Styrofoam box out of the bag he had picked up from a nearby sandwich shop. “And I got you roast beef,” he added, handing a sandwich box to Aidan. “And there’s applesauce for Mr. Paddy,” he said cheerfully, pulling out a plastic pouch of pureed apples and unscrewing the top. He handed the pouch to Patrick, happy to watch the little boy immediately start eating.

“Thanks so much,” Aidan said as he opened up his box, finding a sandwich and a small salad. “Paddy, can you thank Manu for your applesauce?”

On the bed, Patrick smiled widely with his applesauce, clearly liking the taste of it. He still clutched the cloth of Dean’s gown, not wanting to be away from his older father after spending a night without him.

Dean nodded up at Manu. “Seriously, mate, you’re the best,” he said honestly, kissing Patrick’s hair. “Did you not get any food for yourself?”

“I already ate,” Manu replied. “Do you want some help?” When Dean answered affirmatively, he pulled a chair up close to the bed and sat down. “You’ve got a salad and some bread,” he explained, pulling the box open and putting it on the bed so that it was easy for him to reach and also visible from Dean’s current position. He picked up a fork with some salad and brought it up toward his friend’s mouth, not quite sure in his movements. While he had seen the other man getting help with eating, he had never been the one helping before and didn’t know what exactly he was supposed to do.

“Bring it a bit closer,” Dean instructed, seeing Manu’s hesitation. When the fork was the right distance from his mouth, he leaned his neck forward a little bit and took a bite, relaxing back into the pillow to chew and swallow.

After a few moments of awkwardness, Manu got comfortable with his role feeding his friend, and made faces at Patrick as he did so. “It’s going to be really cute in a few months when he wants to help you eat but doesn’t have the coordination to do it right,” the larger Kiwi said with a smile.

Dean grinned. “He tried to put a piece of cereal in my mouth a couple weeks ago,” he told his friend. “My little man is looking out for me, isn’t he?” he said, rubbing his right wrist over Patrick’s back lovingly.

“That’s really sweet,” Manu said, reaching over and taking the applesauce from the infant when he held it out, clearly wanting someone to take it from him. “Thank you for not throwing that on the floor,” he told the little boy seriously. “You’re a well-behaved little guy, aren’t you?”

Patrick smiled a bit, snuggling closer to Dean’s chest now that he was done eating.

Though he enjoyed being with his husband and son, as well as his teammate and friend, Dean could feel his energy waning by the time he finished eating. He felt far better than he had the previous day, but that honestly wasn’t saying much, seeing as he had nearly bled out twenty hours previously. While he was still smiling with the others, he knew he was flagging and wouldn’t last much longer.

“We’re going to let you rest a bit,” Aidan said around two in the afternoon, seeing the way that Dean’s eyes drooped and his words and expressions became less animated. “I’m going to talk to a nurse to see when you can leave, and Manu and I can help you shower and get in bed tonight so you can sleep for a while.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, grateful not only for the promise of help that night, but also for the chance to take a nap at that moment. “I just need an hour or two to sleep, okay? I love you, buddy,” he added softly to his son. “Why don’t you nap too, and then we can have Paddy and Daddy time tonight and read a book together, and maybe you can show me how great you are at walking and wheeling?”

As they left, Manu turned to smile at Aidan. “’Paddy and Daddy time’ sounds adorable,” he informed the Irishman.

Aidan nodded. “It is. They snuggle and read books and play uncoordinated clapping games. Paddy absolutely adores Dean. Getting time alone with Dean where nobody else is around is really special, and Paddy just soaks up the attention he gets when that happens,” he explained. “I have a feeling that when he grows up a bit, I’m going to be bad cop, and Dean’s going to be good cop.”

“I don’t know, I’ve heard Dean lays down the law with the kids on the team he coaches,” Manu said with a shrug. “Peacock told me,” he added when Aidan looked at him curiously. “They can have fun and be silly, but when they start really misbehaving, he doesn’t take their crap.”

The Irishman privately thought that this firm personality of Dean’s wouldn’t extend to the parenting of his own kid, but he kept that thought to himself. He got Patrick comfortable in his stroller once they were back in the waiting room and took out a picture book, reading it aloud in a soft, soothing voice until his son fell asleep, snoring softly all the while.

“Thanks for helping out while Dean’s injured,” Aidan told Manu after a little while, looking over at the New Zealander as he read a magazine that was over two years old. “Just our luck that the one time we go to a competition without his PCA, this shit happens.”

Manu looked up from the article that was seriously about the 2016 American presidential elections, feeling bored out of his mind since he knew the result already, obviously, smiling. “It’s no problem,” he assured his friend. “Anyway, it’s not like this means he still needs a full-time PCA, right?”

“Definitely not,” Aidan answered. “We’d need help if he were able-bodied and had an injury like this, since we have a kid. He’s doing really well with part-time care now, and I think he’s happier with it. Spending most of the day alone with Patrick is really important and exciting for him.” He paused for a moment, starting to speak again when he realized he had a question for Manu. “Do you live at the training center, or just near it? Back in New Zealand, I mean,” he added hastily.

“I live about twenty minutes away and commute,” Manu answered. “I’ve got three kids, and we wouldn’t fit in one of the flats on the center grounds. I used to live there, though, and it’s pretty great. Good food,” he said thoughtfully. “You guys are moving there, right?”

Aidan nodded. “Yeah, we are,” he replied. “It’s going to be really nice to live somewhere with a cafeteria for when we’re too tired to cook. And even though I’m married to a Kiwi, I’ve never been to New Zealand, so moving there is going to be pretty cool.”

“You’ll love it,” Manu promised. “It’s gorgeous and laid-back, and our Paralympic teams are all filled with really nice people, and you’ll meet a ton of them when you eat in the cafeteria, especially since more people are going to be moving back to the training center now that we’re getting so close to Tokyo. Plus, there are single people who like babies but don’t see them much, so you’ll have a ton of volunteers to babysit Paddy when you need a break.”

The Irishman grinned brightly. “That’s a plus,” he admitted. “I have no idea how we’re going to get packed and move in three weeks with Dean getting injured, but once we’re there, it’s going to be great.”

“I’m sure half of the track team and some other athletes will help you with the moving in part,” Manu assured him. “I don’t know about packing, but our team will get you set up in the new flat in a day. Jed’s friends with most of the murderball team, so you can probably make some friends to play rec league with,” he added. “And they’ll help you move in. You probably know this better than anyone, but wheelchair ruggers get shit done fast.”

“If even half the Wheel Blacks help out, we’ll be done in a couple hours and I can let Dean relax and look after Patrick while we do all the work,” Aidan replied, nodding. “I’ve played against your team, and they were all strong as hell. Plus, Maia Amai is my girl crush,” he confessed.

Manu laughed. “I’m telling Dean.”

“He’ll understand. She’s awesome,” Aidan said breezily.

* * *

By the time they got back to the hotel, Dean was absolutely starving. It was seven in the evening, and he had gotten a bit jealous of Patrick eating a pouch of pureed vegetables in the car. “Let’s get delivery,” he suggested in the elevator. “Manu, if you don’t have plans, we’re buying you dinner,” he added, looking up at where his friend held Patrick, tickling his stomach.

“That sounds great,” Manu answered, smiling at the child in his arms even as he spoke to Dean. “Do you want to shower tonight or not?” he asked, letting Patrick pull on his hair, used to it from when his own children were little.

Dean mulled it over in his head for a few moments. “I think so,” he replied slowly. “I’m tired and all, but I haven’t showered since the race and that’s pretty gross. If you don’t mind helping Aidan get me in and then watching Patrick so that he doesn’t have to be in the shower with us, that’d be really great.”

“Of course,” Manu said immediately, stepping out of the elevator when it reached the fourth floor and pausing so that Dean and Aidan could get in front of him and lead the way to their hotel room. “I can’t believe you’re still awake and not crying, Paddy,” he told the infant as he bent down and picked a picture book up from the little table. He smiled as he looked at the cover; it was a book with some traditional Maori stories, and while he was not fully Maori or very immersed in the culture, he still felt a connection to that side of him. “Why don’t we read this while your daddies order dinner?” he suggested, sitting Patrick down in his lap so that it would be easier to show him the pictures while reading it.

Patrick looked up at Manu, looking a little distressed, and kicked his legs around as he grabbed at them. “Ah,” he said plaintively.

It only took Manu a second to figure out what the little boy wanted. “Let’s get those off,” he said cheerfully, easily getting the prostheses off before putting them down on top of the bag of Patrick’s things. “I know, after wearing those all day, you just want to take them off,” he sympathized.

“We’re going to get Chinese,” Aidan said, trying to get Manu’s attention before he started reading aloud. “What do you want?”

The New Zealander only took a few moments to decide. “Moo shu pork,” he answered, thanking Aidan before opening the book and starting to read to Patrick in a soft voice. He missed his own family, and though his kids were older now, he still felt some happy nostalgia at the little boy’s excitement, the way he reached forward and patted the pages and occasionally twisted around a bit to look at Manu as he read.

Aidan nudged his husband, grinning. “They’re so cute,” he whispered, nodding toward their son and Manu. “I’m glad Paddy’s going to have a role model with prosthetics once we move,” he added, looking at the menu as he leaned over to use the phone that was next to the bed. He ordered their food quickly, wishing they had ordered while in the taxi from the hospital to the hotel, because he was almost unbearably hungry.

“He’s going to have a lot of those role models,” Dean said once Aidan had hung up with the restaurant, feeling really happy about that prospect. “And they’re all going to love him. We managed to have a really sweet kid,” he told his husband proudly. “Look at how happy he is to sit there with Manu.”

“I can’t wait to see him grow up,” Aidan commented. “Sports aren’t everything, but he’s going to get to try so many, and I know it’s going to be cute. I’m going to get him in the pool in a year or so to teach him to swim.”

Dean grinned. “If you make friends with the murderball team, one of the players is also a swimmer and has three or four congenital amputations, depending on how you measure it, so he’d be a good role model and teacher, if you want that.”

“Cameron Leslie?” Aidan asked, receiving a nod from the blond. “That’d be great. I’ve met him before and he seems really nice, and he’s got a couple golds in swimming. He’d be such a cool role model and swimming teacher for Paddy.” He looked over at Dean, sighing softly. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay after that crash?” he asked quietly.

“I am,” the older man assured his husband. “I promise. I’ll go really easy on training for a few weeks, until we move, I guess, but I’m fine. There’s going to a good amount of scarring down there, but it’s going to heal up pretty fast. The stitches are going to dissolve after a week, so I only have to go back to the doctor if something goes wrong. I’ll just check in with the trainer before I start training again,” he explained, and pushed himself up into a better sitting position. He jerked his chin a little to indicate to Aidan to come closer, and he kissed the Irishman softly. “I love you,” he whispered, smiling when the younger man echoed the sentiment. He pushed the joystick of his chair and moved toward the chair where Manu sat with Patrick, listening to the way that his fellow New Zealander read the story.

Thrilled to see his older father near him, especially after missing him the previous night, Patrick looked up and waved excitedly at Dean. “Dada!” he said excitedly, pointing toward the picture book in front of him to show what he was doing.

“Do you like that book?” Dean asked, as Manu had stopped to let Patrick talk. “I like those stories a lot, and I bet Manu knows them better than Daddy and Da. He probably heard some of these growing up,” he explained, glancing up and getting a nod from his friend. “Okay, maybe you can start to calm down for sleep while Manu reads the rest of the book,” he suggested to his son hopefully, pushing a button on his chair to tilt the seat back as Manu started reading again.

Even though he had slept the night and half of the day, Dean was teetering on the edge of consciousness. His body had used so much energy replenishing his blood supply and trying to knit the skin of his side back together that he was exhausted yet again. He must have fallen asleep, because he realized he had missed a lot of the story that Manu had read and felt tiny hands on his face out of nowhere. “Hey, sweetie,” he said a little hoarsely, opening his eyes and seeing that his friend was holding his son above him. “Want to sit with Daddy now?” he asked, taking Patrick into his arms.

“Aidan went down to get delivery,” Manu explained. “And Paddy started asking for his Dada, and looked like he was about to cry,” he added. “Are you sure you’ll be awake enough to shower?”

Dean nodded. “Aidan can jab me in the shoulder to keep me from falling asleep,” he told his friend. “Hopefully Patrick’ll be asleep by then so he doesn’t get upset while Aidan and I are busy. He stops liking people who aren’t us when he’s tired. He even cries when Luke holds him if he’s too sleepy, and he’s known Luke his whole life.” He lifted Patrick up a bit with a stiff arm and kissed his forehead. “You get grumpy when you’re tired, don’t you?” He winced a bit when his son grabbed his hair with tiny, strong fists and yanked it. “Buddy, you need to be gentle,” he reminded the infant. “Manu, can you get his hands out of my hair?” he asked.

“Of course,” Manu answered, carefully peeling Patrick’s hand from Dean’s hair and pulling it away. “Daddy’s right, you need to be gentle,” he said softly. He heard a knock and left the other two so that he could open the door.

“Thanks,” Aidan said gratefully, coming into the room with one arm used to wheel and the other holding the bag on his lap. “I couldn’t balance the food and open the door at the same time,” he explained, putting the bag on the table. “Hey, bug,” he added, seeing Patrick wave at him excitedly. “Are you going to sit with Daddy while he eats?”

“Dada!” Patrick exclaimed, grabbing Dean’s shirt and holding tightly, letting his face fall into his father’s chest as he snuggled up close to the blond. “Dada,” he repeated a little more calmly, rubbing his cheek against his father’s shirt, clearly happy to be with him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maia Amai is absolutely amazing. She plays for the Wheel Blacks, and is one of relatively few women in elite wheelchair rugby. And Cameron Leslie is a swimmer who also plays for the Wheel Blacks and is really cool. I just really love the Wheel Blacks, y'all.


	47. Showering, etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry 2 take so long 2 update! my right hand closed the fuck up on me & do u no how hard it is 2 type with 1 hand? it's awful. but i was like "what am i supposed 2 do? /not/ write my disability au fan fiction? not an option."
> 
> anyway, updates 4 both of my stories will b slow & author's notes r gonna b n txt speak,sorry!

“Holy shit,” Manu said softly as he helped Dean take off his shirt; while usually the other New Zealander took off his own shirt, or got a bit of help from Aidan, but with his stitched-side and Aidan dealing with an exhausted and fussy Patrick, it was up to Manu to help. “This wound is awful.” He couldn’t help but stare at the ripped-up, raw, scabby skin, which had dark stitches in a few different rows across it.

Aidan looked up when he heard Manu talking, and winced at the site of Dean’s side. “Oh, babe,” he said softly. “I know you can’t feel it, but I’ve got sympathetic pain just looking at it.” He brought Patrick up to his shoulder and rocked him gently, bouncing a bit to try to calm him. “I’ll get him to sleep as soon as I can and help with the shower, okay?”

“We should be fine without help if it takes a while to get him down,” Dean said after a couple whispers with Manu. He was really appreciative that the other man was so willing to help and so comfortable with getting him in the shower. “Aidan, I’m going to get naked with another man,” he teased.

The Irishman snorted. “You’ve been naked with another man practically every day that I’ve known you. I think I’ll survive,” he responded, kissing Patrick’s cheek as the little boy kept fussing against his shoulder. “I’m going to give him some milk,” he commented, wheeling one-armed to get out formula and take it to the microwave, hoping that a warm bottle would calm his son down. While talking quietly to Patrick, hoping he would distract him from being so upset, he watched to make sure that Dean didn’t rip his stitches again as he and Manu worked slowly and carefully to get his shorts and briefs off, leaving the condom cath on to take off in the bathroom. “Shout if you need any help,” he told the two men as they went past him and into the bathroom, leaving the door open in case of an emergency.

“It’s going to be easiest for me to get in with you, right?” Manu asked, already taking his shirt off in preparation. “Okay, let me take off my jeans, then,” he said when Dean nodded, pulling off the denim and leaving himself in boxers. “Let me get you in the shower and we can start.”

“Get the catheter off first,” Dean reminded his friend. “I don’t need another one for tonight. I just use them during the day because I can’t transfer on and off the toilet without help,” he explained when Manu looked confused. “If you’re uncomfortable dealing with the condom or the cath bag, I can get Aid to come in for a sec…”

Manu rolled his eyes. “I don’t care about that. I just didn’t realize you only use a cath part time. Do you use a pad or diaper at night?” he asked casually as he unhooked the bag from his friend’s ankle and disconnected the condom from the collection bag tube, a little surprised when the other man shook his head—he hadn’t meant it as a yes-or-no question, but rather as an either-or. The condom went into the trash, the urine into the toilet, and he rinsed out the collection bag before washing his hands and turning back to Dean. “Do I turn the shower on first or get you in first?” he asked.

“Put me in first,” Dean instructed. “If you turned on the water first, it might make it a little slippery, which gets dangerous.” He would usually do about half of the work of the transfer, but with his busted side, he had to let Manu lift his entire weight. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just put me down carefully,” he reminded the other man, making sure that they were both ready before nodding, indicating to the other man to lift.

Manu moved carefully; he was used to carrying his children, sometimes even two at a time, but lifting up a grown man who was pretty much made of muscle was a different story all together. “Oh, jeez,” he muttered, trying to move smoothly rather than lurch toward the shower seat.

In the other man’s arms, Dean snorted. “Not as easy as it looks, is it?” he teased, trying to make sure Manu knew he was doing okay even if he wasn’t perfect. “You’re fine as long as you don’t drop me.” While he was being honest in his support, Dean breathed a sigh of relief when Manu set him down safely on the bench. “We should be really careful with my left side.”

“No shit,” Manu said dryly, taking off his prosthesis and putting it down on the floor near Dean’s wheelchair. He balanced on his leg and hopped close to the knobs of the shower, reaching up and aiming the showerhead toward the wall as he started the water so that he wouldn’t accidentally freeze his friend when he turned it on. Once it was warm enough, he turned the showerhead to direct the water onto Dean. “Okay, just tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do,” he said, sitting down on the bench now that he didn’t have to reach anything.

Dean reached his right arm up to hold the grab bar for balance before answering, “Just soap, shampoo, conditioner. I’m using my right arm to balance and my left hand can’t grip for shit, so I need you to do all of the work for the actual washing.”

“Okay,” Manu said simply, picking up a washcloth that had been draped over the grab bar and dumping some soap into it. It was easy enough to help Dean wash until he got to the wound, which he had left for last. “I really, really don’t want to bust the stitches again,” he said, holding the washcloth close to the skin but hesitant to touch it. “Try not to move while I do this, yeah?” he added, worried at the prospect of Dean shifting and ending up with far too much pressure on his side.

“Don’t worry,” Dean said calmly. “I’ll be still, and you just have to wash it a tiny bit. You’d have to really fuck this up to re-open the stitches.” He was careful to hold himself as still as possible when Manu started to work on his side. “See? All good,” he proclaimed when the other man finished. “Let’s get out now. If you can put me on the bed, Aid can get me dressed and we’ll be fine for the night, so you can go back to your room and get dry clothes.” He smiled at his friend as he stood up to turn off the shower. “Thank you so much for this, mate.”

After he had turned off the shower, Manu looked back at Dean. “Of course,” he replied. “You needed help, and I’m your friend.” He paused. “Are you honestly not mad at Pace for this?” he asked.

“He didn’t mean to hit me,” Dean answered, shrugging his right shoulder stiffly. “He’s a relatively new racer and he lost control. I’m mad at the situation, though,” he admitted. “You guys haven’t said anything about it, but I know Persbrant broke my two hundred meter record today. I could’ve defended my title, broken my own record, or at least have put up a fucking fight, because I’m fast as hell when somebody gives me a challenge, and instead I was lying in a hospital bed. I can’t be mad at Pace because he didn’t mean to fuck me over like this, but he did.” He sighed softly. “Sorry, I know I sound bitter.”

Manu nodded. “Aidan and I thought you probably wouldn’t want to hear about your record getting broken, not today,” he replied. “I don’t blame you for being pissed off at the whole situation. You had a perfect record in Rio, and in most of the Grand Prixes you’ve done since. This could have been another clean sweep for you, and instead you spent the night in the hospital, had to get a blood transfusion, and you’ve got a giant new scar.” He reached out of the shower stall and grabbed a towel to start to dry Dean off. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,” he finished with a bit of a grimace, drying himself off a bit before hopping a few feet over to sit on the toilet and put his prosthetic leg back on. “You should have some beer and make out with your husband to feel better about it,” he suggested as he got his arms around his friend. “Ready? Three, two, one, and up,” he counted before carefully lifting Dean into his wheelchair.

“Honestly, beer and kissing Aidan sounds like a great plan,” Dean said with a grin. “Fuck knows I need to cheer up. Patrick’ll go to bed soon. We don’t have beer, though,” he said thoughtfully. “Screw it. We’ll do without the beer.”

With a smirk, Manu dried Dean off a little more. “I better not hear you guys later tonight,” he warned the blond. “I’m in the room next to you, and I don’t want to hear any moans, or the bed banging against the wall.”

“We have a baby in the room, you egg,” Dean pointed out. “If we fuck, we’ll be quiet about it. I may ruin the mood by complaining about not being able to defend my title, though,” he added with a self-deprecating grin. “That’s where having beer would help.” He started to back up to get out of the bathroom, swinging around once he had room so that he could head toward the bed. “Is Paddy still up?” he asked his husband.

“Yeah, but almost asleep,” Aidan answered in a soft voice, rocking their son slowly. “And you know that I could hear you, right? You can complain about it if you need to. It really sucked.” He leaned forward and gave Dean a kiss once he was close enough. “Will you be good if Manu gets you in bed? I can bring a cup of water for you to brush your teeth later so we don’t have to try to get you out.”

The older man nodded, and once he was in the bed, still naked, he thanked Manu and bade him goodnight. “I’ll come watch your races,” he promised. “Next one is on Thursday, right?”

After nodding, the other New Zealander headed out, leaving the small family alone again.

“I’m so sorry your record got broken,” Aidan said quietly, opening the floor for Dean to vent.

With a sigh, the blond looked down at his hands, which sat stiffly in his lap. “I wouldn’t mind it being broken if I’d been there,” he explained. “I mean, I would’ve been disappointed in myself, but it wouldn’t feel like this. I maybe could’ve defended it, broken my own record by having someone so fast to compete against, but it would’ve felt like losing it fairly. I could lose both of my world records this week without being able to do anything about it. I know that it shouldn’t matter that much to me, but it does. This is probably conceited, but I like being the best in the world. I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am today, and then I lose my record because someone hit me, accidentally and I don’t blame him, and I spent the night in the hospital.” He grimaced. “I hate using this phrase, because I know it’s immature and I said it enough when I was 21, but it’s not fair.”

Aidan leaned over and kissed Dean’s shoulder. “It isn’t,” he agreed, moving back to keep rocking Patrick so that he’d fall asleep. “It isn’t fair, and of course you like being the best in the world. You wouldn’t be one of the best wheelchair racers in the world if you weren’t driven to be the best of the best, and you’ve spent more than your fair share of time in hospitals. I understand why you’re upset about it.” He gave his husband a small smile. “But I really like Manu’s suggestion that you get over the frustration by making out with me tonight.”

Dean grinned, though it was clearly a little forced; he was still upset. “You’ve got to get that kid in bed first, babe,” he pointed out. “But I think that can be arranged.” While Aidan kept soothing Patrick, trying to get him to sleep, Dean grabbed his phone from the table next to the bed, opening up the Facebook app to type out a post reassuring everyone that he was okay; he knew it was petty, but he couldn’t bring himself to congratulate Persbrant on breaking his record. He did, however, make sure to refer to what had happened as an accident; he was angry, but, as he had said to Manu, not at Lee. His post looked falsely happy to his own eyes, but he hoped his followers wouldn’t notice. He sighed, trying to get out of his shitty mood so that he could enjoy himself, and sent a message to his mother, who remained unconvinced that he was safe and healthy.

“Hey,” Aidan said softly, returning to the bed once Patrick was in the crib, sleeping soundly. “All I want right now is for you not to feel like shit, babe. There’ll be another Grand Prix in a few months, and you can get your record back then. And it’s only a year ‘til Tokyo. You’ll be able to fight for your titles again.” He hopped up on the bed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s neck as he settled down.

“I know,” Dean replied quietly, turning his head to look at his husband. “I just need to be distracted so I don’t stew in the frustration anymore.” He smiled a little at the younger man. “Just kiss me.”

Unable to help himself, and not really wanting to stop himself, Aidan rolled over onto his husband, straddling him and sitting on his stomach so that he could comfortably lean down and press his lips to the older man’s. “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay,” the Irishman whispered when he broke away, resting his forehead on Dean’s. “I thought I was going to have a heart attack when you flipped, and then again when you needed donor blood. You’re the love of my life, babe, and Patrick and I can’t live without you.”

“Good thing you won’t have to,” Dean breathed, craning his neck a bit to kiss Aidan’s shoulder. “I love you, Aid, and, bitterness aside, I’m honestly one hundred percent okay. Six years ago, I was presumed dead in a car that was crumpled up to half the length it had been originally and was part of it was on fucking fire; I can take a bit of a scrape on my side.”

Aidan shuddered a little; every tome that he thought about how close to death Dean had come that night, he felt a bit of terror. “I seriously can’t believe that your accident was only six years ago,” he said to get away from thinking too hard about his husband nearly dying back then. “You won five golds only three years after becoming disabled, and now you’ve got world records and… how the fuck did you become an elite, basically perfect athlete so fast?”

Shaking his head, Dean kissed Aidan’s shoulder again. “You’re the only one who thinks I’m perfect,” he pointed out. “Everyone else just thinks I’m pretty good.”

The younger man snorted. “It’s like you never read the comments on your Facebook and Instagram posts,” he said with a smirk. “People call you their hero, say that you’re the most amazing athlete to ever live, and talk about their kids wanting to grow up to be you. If you read between the lines, they think you’re perfect.” He smiled proudly, dropping a light, playful kiss to Dean’s nose. “Add to that the fact that you’re a great dad to our son, and, yeah, you’re pretty perfect.”

“Shut up,” Dean said, blushing. “You helped lead the Irish murderball team to their first Paralympics and got a silver medal, so let he who is without sin—or, like, perfection in this case—cast the first stone. Also, our baby is great and that’s at least half your doing.” He smiled, gently pushing his husband with his right hand. “I’m pretty tired, babe,” he admitted, trying to hold back a yawn. “Maybe you should get off of me so I can brush my teeth and go to bed.”

“Good idea,” Aidan replied, rolling off of his husband and into his chair a little clumsily; he was too lazy to make the effort to coordinate his movements. “I’ll help you with your teeth and then do my own routine. Do you think you need to pee or anything?” he asked over his shoulder as he wheeled to the bathroom, grabbing his husband’s toothbrush, a cup of water, and the toothpaste they shared.

When Aidan returned, Dean shook his head. “I’m good for the night,” he answered. “Just teeth and I’ll pass out.” He worked with the younger man to get himself into a better sitting position and then opened his mouth, letting Aidan brush his teeth for him. He usually helped, but it was a messy process, and he would just have ended up with spit and toothpaste all over the bed. “Thanks,” he said around a mouthful of minty foam. “You’re the best.”

Aidan grinned, pressing a kiss to Dean’s lips and getting a taste of toothpaste as he did so. “I love you,” he said simply, taking the toothbrush out of the Kiwi’s mouth and helping him to rinse out his mouth into the cup. “You can sleep now,” he whispered, putting aside the toothbrush and water so that he could help his husband to lie down comfortably. “I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Night, babe,” Dean drawled, sleep clearly about to overtake him. His eyes were drooping; the injury and subsequent blood loss and clearly drained him of his energy. He fell asleep to the south of the faucet running as Aidan started to brush his teeth.

* * *

Dean woke up to the feeling of small, sticky hands on his face and a demanding voice repeatedly yelling, “Dada!” He opened his eyes, blinking a couple times to get them focused after a night of sleep, and smiled widely at his son, making a kissy face at him.

“How’s my little guy this morning?” he asked cheerfully. “You look like you slept really well, and I didn’t hear you cry in the middle of the night.”

“He was awake when I got up, just talking to Buns,” Aidan told his husband, dropping a kiss on his forehead as he put a cup of tea on the bedside table, a straw stuck in it so that Dean would be able to drink it. “What do you want to do today?” he asked, transferring onto the bed to sit at the older man’s side. “If you feel up to moving, we could take Paddy around town. There’s a park a few blocks away, and we could let him walk around some. He’s only ever walked inside on even surfaces, but he should learn how to move around on grass and bumpy things.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Can I have my tea and wake up a little before we get into a day of teaching our son all these important life skills?” he asked, smiling. “I don’t know how I’ll feel about moving around. I’m still pretty tired.”

The Irishman winced a little. “I shouldn’t have let Patrick wake you up,” he said guiltily. “He just kept pointing at you and saying ‘Dada’ and looking at me hopefully. How could I say no to that?” He leaned down and kissed Patrick’s messy hair. “You love Daddy a lot, don’t you?” he asked. “Don’t you?”

Patrick smiled widely. “Dada!” he said, repeating Aidan’s mention of his Daddy as best he could. “Da?” he added, grin fading as he turned to look over at his younger father, his smile returning in full force when Aidan waved to him. He flopped forward, no longer holding himself up and instead just lying down on Dean’s chest and pulling at his shirt with uncoordinated hands.

“He’s already eaten, right?” Dean asked. When Aidan nodded, he rolled his eyes a bit. “But you decided not to wipe his hands before putting him on me?” he asked, smirking.

“I’m just trying to encourage you to shower more often,” Aidan said with a serious expression, and then laughed. “He was really wiggly and insisted on seeing his Daddy right away and looked like he was getting a bit freaked out. I think he vaguely remembers you not being around a couple nights ago and is scared you’ll disappear again.”

Dean looked at his son seriously. “I’m not going to leave you,” he promised solemnly. “Even if I get hurt or sick and go to the hospital again, I’m going to come back to you. The longest I’ll be away from you is going to be when I’m staying in the athletes’ village in Tokyo, but I’ll see you during the day and everything. I love you, buddy. Daddy isn’t going anywhere.” He craned his neck uncomfortably and managed to kiss the young boy’s chubby cheek. “Do you want to read a book with me now? I think we’d have a lot of fun. We can read your new book about Cuchulainn. He was a cool guy in ancient Ireland!” he explained enthusiastically. “Can you help me sit up and get the book?” he asked Aidan hopefully, kissing the younger man’s forehead when he did so. “Love you.”

It took a while to read the book; between Patrick getting excited and pointing at pictures and babbling and the difficulty Dean had with turning pages (he couldn’t wait for the day when Patrick could do that as they read), even a picture book could take half an hour. Once they had finished the last page, complete with Patrick talking animatedly to the pictures, Dean let the book fall off his lap and onto the bed. “Did you like that, buddy?” he asked, grinning as Patrick relaxed lazily back into his chest. “Are you tired too?” he added when his son let out a squeaky yawn. “Maybe we can just snuggle and get Da to do everything for us today.”

Aidan laughed softly as he leaned over to pick up the book from the floor. “It’s a good thing I love you two so much,” he teased. “We can do a lazy day. Paddy, do you want to show Daddy your walking today? I've been so proud of you, but you’ve been walking a lot when Daddy’s at practice and it’s not fair that he doesn't get to see you.”

On the bed, Dean smiled and kissed Patrick on the head. “Can we get me dressed before we do anything else? I’d love to play with Paddy all day and watch him walk, but I need to get up before we can do that.”

“Do you really want to get dressed?” Aidan asked, rubbing a hand over Dean’s pajama-clad leg fondly. “If we aren't leaving the room, it doesn’t really matter. I can grab the cath and just do that for now.”

Dean grinned. “Pajamas. I like it. No wonder I married you,” he said cheerfully. “That sounds good to me. Who needs to get dressed?” he asked Patrick, kissing his cheek lovingly. “Not me, and not you. Not even Da, by the looks of it, and he’s not injured _or_ a baby. I think he’s just lazy,” he added in a stage whisper as Aidan rolled away to get the cath bag and a fresh condom attachment. “We still love him, though,” he teased. “Paddy, do you want to walk for me? We can play with your blocks or trains and you can wear your legs as much as you want. Or as little as you want,” he added. Even if Patrick was too young to really understand, he wanted to emphasize that choosing legs or wheels was the little boy’s choice.

“Wa?” Patrick repeated, looking closely at Dean’s face.

The New Zealander smiled broadly. “That’s right!” he said excitedly, rubbing his son’s back with the knuckles of his closed-up hand. “Good job on that word, buddy!” He looked over at Aidan when the younger man came out of the bathroom. “Neither of us can walk, and guess what word our little guy just said?”

Aidan’s face lit up, moving more quickly so that he could scoop Patrick up and kiss him proudly before putting him back in Dean’s lap. “That’s my bug!” he crowed. “You’re so smart, aren't you?” he praised. “Man, he’s smart,” he added to his husband. “Ready for the cath?” he asked, and when he got a nod he busied himself with getting it on without disturbing Dean or Patrick too much. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you with a suprapubic cath?” he asked casually. “Like, I know this is better than getting on and off the toilet, but you’re still dealing with a spastic bladder that you have to force to release. A suprapubic would take that part away.”

“It would,” Dean answered slowly. “But it’s another surgery, and that’s tough with training and a little kid. Maybe I’ll get one when I retire and Patrick's a little older.” He tickled his son’s belly as Aidan finished up with the condom cath and pulled his pajama pants back up.

“How are you feelings, babe?” Aidan asked, picking Patrick back up and positioning him comfortably on his hip so that he could tug on the Irishman’s hair as his fathers talked.

Dean slid his lips over his teeth from side to side—his own version of wiggling his hand in the air to indicate so-so. “I’m tired, which I think is from the injury, and I’m still feeling kind of bad about Persbrant breaking my record yesterday.” He sighed, and then smiled. “Let’s just have a family day, okay? If I can just snuggle with you guys and watch Patrick walk around, I’m not going to think about that as much.”

The younger man leaned forward, keeping a firm grip on a wiggly Patrick, and kissed his husband gently. “We can definitely do that. I know Paddy’s going to be so happy to have you around. He mostly spends his days with you, and he gets sad when he can’t do that.”

“I miss you when I’m not with you,” Dean informed Patrick. “But Da is pretty great too, isn’t he? I don’t know about you, but I love Da a lot.”

Patrick smiled widely, burrowing his head into Aidan’s shoulder as he did so. “Da,” he mumbled happily.


	48. Moving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was working on chap 49 bc i thought id posted this 1. oops! 
> 
> i adore the wheel blacks, & i recommend every1 watch [this video](http://attitudelive.com/documentary/tasman-clash). ull c some of the players & theyre amazing. yep.
> 
> hope u guys like this upd8!

“Over the past three years, I’ve forgotten how much it sucks to pack up and move,” Dean commented as he tiredly put more of Patrick’s toys into a box. As the less coordinated half of the moving team, he was in charge of the non-breakable things, like clothes and all of Patrick’s stuffed toys. Aidan, on the other hand, was carefully wrapping up some of the more precious, delicate, and expensive things and placing them in boxes; he had finished up with Dean’s manual chair, Patrick’s chair, and their photographs, and was working on their medals and their stands.

“Same,” Aidan muttered. “We’re going to stay in New Zealand after this, you hear? No more moving. I’m done.” He looked over at Patrick, who was stacking blocks on the floor of their now mostly-bare apartment. “You’d better love Wellington, bug, because we aren’t leaving once we get there. “ He looked up at Dean. “I really, really hope he’s good on the flight. It’s a long time for him to be miserable, and I know it’s awful for all the other passengers when a kid is crying or yelling.” He finished wrapping up Dean’s Grand Prix and World Championship medals and went onto the six that they had between the two of the from Rio.

Dean finished with Patrick’s toys and sighed. “Okay, we’ve got a extra clothes in our suitcases for if we get stuck somewhere or don’t feel like unpacking for a few days. I’ve got the charger for my chair, we have our electronics in our carry-ons, and Patrick has enough toys to stay happy for the whole time. Hopefully,” he added, grinning. “I can't believe we’re leaving tomorrow. Yay New Zealand,” he said cheerfully, clapping a hand against his leg as he moved over toward his son.

Looking up toward his older father, Patrick smiled and clapped his hands happily before reaching up hopefully. “Da?” he said loudly, knowing from experience that Da needed to help to get him into Daddy’s arms and lap. “Dada!” he explained, pointing to the blond when Aidan looked over.

“I’ve got you,” Aidan said happily, lifting the little boy up and putting him into Dean’s lap. “Have fun with Daddy! Da’s going to be done in an hour and then we’ll get takeout and eat before we go to sleep and we move tomorrow! We’re going to live near Manu and Jed, and I know you like them.”

Patrick had obviously stopped listening to Aidan when he had gotten into Dean’s lap, pulling on the blond man’s shirt, smiling, and babbling at his older father. He bounced around on Dean’s lap, used to the bony, atrophied legs below him. He had felt them under him for his entire life, and didn't mind the way they poked him if he sat down too hard.

“Aid, let me know if I can help with anything,” Dean said, sounding a little distracted as he split his attention between his son and his husband. He knew he probably couldn't help with much, as they were mostly finishing up with packing their more delicate things. Dean had done a lot of the packing while Aidan had been at work, so the things that required coordination had been left until last.

The brunet nodded absently, clearly focused on the packing. He was getting a bit stressed about moving, but he just needed to finish up this last box; in the morning they would pack up the sheets in their suitcase; Patrick was sleeping in a drawer, taken out of the dresser, with a bunch of blankets to keep him cozy and comfortable. His crib had been dismantled and packed away, shipped over to their new apartment. While their new place, like the one they were about to leave, was furnished, it did not come with a crib. “This’ll all be over soon,” he muttered to himself, refusing to think about the unpacking they would have to do within the week. Privately, he had decided to unpack only the essentials that week; the other stuff could wait for a while. Honestly, he’d probably beg Manu or Jed for help with that. Moving was fucking exhausting.

* * *

“I’m going to scream,” Dean muttered four hours into the flight. “I think I’m dying.”

Aidan leaned over and kissed his husband’s cheek. “Just a few more hours,” he said soothingly, knowing that it wasn’t much of a comfort. It was a long flight, and a few more hours was a lot for the blond. “What hurts? I can help you move.”

Patrick scooted over on Aidan’s lap, a few pretzels in his hand. “Dada,” he said quietly, holding one up toward Dean’s mouth.

Despite his pain, Dean smiled. “Thank you, Paddy,” he told his son, craning his neck a bit to eat the pretzel. “You’re such a helpful little guy. You know Daddy can’t always eat by himself, so you’re helping.” He felt so happy and he loved his son, watching how much he wanted to help out. “I love you,” he added.

Determinedly, Patrick grabbed the armrest and tried to pull himself over. He was wearing his legs, which he liked enough to use when he couldn’t use his wheelchair, and they kicked Aidan a bit as he moved. “Dada,” he whined, reaching for his older father. He had been in Aidan’s lap for the past four hours, and started to want a change who he got attention from.

“Yeah,” Aidan said once Dean had nodded, picking Patrick up and putting him in his other father’s lap. “Daddy isn't very comfortable right now, so how about you snuggle with him and distract him? He loves you so much, and I know you can make him feel better.”

Even with his sweet, cheerful son on his lap, first playing and then napping, Dean was uncomfortable throughout the flight, and it dragged on forever. He started to worry about pressure sores, a very real possibility with being in one position for so long. His husband helped him reposition a couple times an hour, but it wasn’t enough to help that much.

Halfway through the flight, Aidan lifted the left leg of Dean’s pants. “We need to empty that cath bag,” he said softly, trying to keep it private. “This is going to be fucking difficult.” He sighed, scooting around as he tried to figure out what to do. They hadn't really figured out what to do ahead of time, because Dean had muttered something about not peeing. Aidan had known this would happen, because no matter how much Dean hated this sort of thing, he knew not to deny himself liquids and possibly get sick.

“Balls,” Dean muttered. “This sucks.” He groaned quietly, feeling frustrated. This was something that was supposed to be private, but there was no way for him to get to the bathroom even if he hadn’t spent a few months getting used to using a condom catheter pretty much all the time.

“I’ll tell the flight attendant I have to go to the toilet,” Aidan said placidly. “Which, like, is true. They’ll bring the aisle chair and I’ll just take the bag with me. Problem solved.” He paused. “I should change Paddy while I’m there. Man, this is a multitasking toilet trip.”

Dean smiled, glad that Aidan was keeping this from being a big, loud deal, and relaxed back into his seat. “Paddy, I bet you need that,” he told the little boy.

When the flight attendant passed next, Aidan leaned across Dean to the aisle and said, “Excuse me,” giving the man a big smile in an attempt to get him to like him. He was sure the other man was exhausted, and he didn’t want to make the long flight even harder for him. “Could I have the aisle chair so I can go up to the bathroom and take my kid to change him?” he asked pleasantly.

The attendant pursed his lips, not looking pleased. Aidan found himself not wanting to be polite and nice anymore. “Do you really need the aisle chair?” he asked, sounding annoyed. “We’d have to get another attendant and the aisle would get really cramped for the other passengers.”

Aidan raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t have legs, so I can’t just walk up to the toilet,” he pointed out, knowing he was being a dick but not caring. The man wasn’t even lowering his voice; most people were politely quiet about the bathroom, but apparently not this guy.

“Can you wait ‘til we land?”

“Seriously?” Aidan asked, looking more than a little unhappy. “Seriously, we’re going there? This flight is long as hell, and I can’t just not drink for a day. And my kid needs to get changed.”

The man sighed, looking put upon. “Fine,” he muttered huffily. “I’ll get the chair and someone else to help.” He walked up the aisle, clearly not so happy.

Aidan leaned close to Dean’s ear, whispering so Patrick couldn’t overhear, “Douche.”

Dean snorted; he felt bad for Aidan, who was being publically embarrassed, but he tended to laugh at ableism as a natural defense; anyway, the sentiment behind ableism was always ridiculous beyond belief. “Do you _really_ have to pee? Can't you just hold it for a few more hours?” he teased, kissing the younger man’s forehead. “Can you disconnect the cath bag before he comes back? I have a feeling he wouldn’t be too nice about it.” He looked down at Patrick. “Do _not_ squeeze or play with the bag Da’s going to be holding. We don’t want that exploding everywhere.”

Just the thought made Aidan twitch a bit. “They’ll be pushing me, so I can keep his hands away from it,” he promised, straightening back up from leaning over to get the bag off of Dean’s ankle and disconnected from the tube.

It was only a few moments after Aidan had gotten a diaper and some wipes out when the flight attendant came back, accompanied by another uniformed man and the thin aisle chair. “Let’s try to be fast, okay?” the first flight attendant said brusquely. “We don’t want to crowd the aisle for too long.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to empty my bladder as fast as possible,” he replied testily, sliding over Dean and then taking the cath bag and diaper from his husband before picking up their son and holding him on his shoulder.

“What’s _that_?” the flight attendant asked, not at all quietly. “A bag of pee?”

Dean felt his cheeks heating up. This was utterly humiliating, and he wanted to sink into the floor and out of the plane. He looked down, not even making eye contact with Aidan as the younger man was rolled away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people looking at him, and, fuck, it felt awful. He was still staring at his lap, feeling embarrassingly close to tears as well as still flushed, when his husband came back.

“Dada!” Patrick said excitedly, practically diving into Dean’s arms with a little help from Aidan. He sloppily kissed the blond man’s face when he was lifted up.

Aidan slid over his husband, muttering a terse thank you to the flight attendants before leaning over to reattach the cath bag for his husband. “Well, that was an awful experience,” he commented, leaning against Dean’s shoulder. “Who acts like that? That kind of… stuff is not okay,” he added, censoring his language at the last minute so that Patrick wouldn’t pick up any inappropriate words. “So there’s a bag of pee. Big freaking deal. Everybody pees, congrats for being abled and not having to put extra effort in.

Despite feeling shitty, Dean cracked a smile at that. “Seriously. Great job not getting hit by a car or having genetic disorders or whatever. Do you want a cookie for being so special?” he joked bitterly. “Paddy, people are going to say a lot of mean stuff when you’re older, and you’re going to just brush it off and remember that your daddies think you’re absolutely perfect.”

A woman leaned across the aisle, and Dean stiffened minutely, ready to hear some condescending shit about his disability. Instead, the woman smiled widely. “Your son is absolutely adorable,” she told him. “And the purple prostheses are so cute.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, grateful to feel his embarrassed blush fading. “His wheelchair is red, but I think he likes the purple more.” Patrick leaned toward the aisle, waving cheerfully at the woman that his Daddy was talking to.

“Hi!” the woman said, waving back at the little boy. “How old is he?” she asked Dean.

“A little over a year,” the blond answered. “Paddy, can say thank you to the nice woman who thinks you’re cute?” he asked his son, jiggling him a little, smiling a little wider when the little boy giggled.

The woman tuned back to her book, but Dean felt better. Next to him, Aidan smiled, glad that his husband was getting over the embarrassment and mortification of the bathroom incident. “Want a snack, Paddy?” he asked, looking at their son. “I’ve got all sorts of yummy things for you.” He kissed the little boy’s chubby cheek and pulled out some Cheerios. “Here you go, bug.”

Patrick picked out a few Cheerios from the plastic container that Aidan had given him, shoving them into his mouth. He then took a couple and held them up to his older father’s mouth. “Dada!” he exclaimed, dropping a couple of the oat circles as he put them into Dean’s mouth.

“Thank you,” Dean said pleasantly, eating the food. “Love you, little man.” He settled back into the seat tiredly, his arms around his son to keep him close in his lap. “You should probably nap, Paddy, because we’ve still got a few more hours and you’ve been up for a while.”

By the time they landed in New Zealand, Aidan was exhausted, Dean was sore, and Patrick was starting to cry miserably. His fathers, on the other hand, nearly cried in happiness when they saw Manu waiting for them by the baggage claim. “Thank God,” Aidan muttered, rolling up to the New Zealander and giving him a big hug. “Thanks for coming for us, man.”

“Of course,” Manu said, moving from Aidan to Dean and then picking up Patrick, jiggling him to try to comfort him. “I borrowed an accessible van and I’ve checked with the coordinators at the training center and your stuff is there. Let’s grab your suitcases and head out so we can get sheets on your bed and set up the crib so you can sleep. I’ve got some people set up to help you move in tomorrow. A couple ruggers are going to help, so you’re going to meet some people, Aid,” he added, leading the way to baggage claim.

“You’re the best,” Dean mumbled, relieved that his son was calming down and that Manu, bless him, seemed to have everything under control. “Seriously. I adore you, mate.”

Manu smiled, glad he could help out his friends. “It’s no problem. I know moving sucks.”

Aidan nodded tiredly. “Understatement,” he groaned tiredly. “It’s legit the worst thing ever.” He sighed as he saw one of their suitcases coming around the belt, and he tugged it off. “We have one more suitcase and a car seat coming up. I’ll get them, because you’ve got Paddy calmed down and I’m not about to risk screwing that up.” He was happy to see that his son was letting his eyelids droop shut as Manu rocked him slowly, and it was only a couple minutes before he had all of their stuff next to him.

“That’s all you have?” Manu asked, sounding surprised.

“We shipped a lot of the big things,” Dean explained, sounding exhausted. “Let’s just get to our new flat, put sheets on our bed and Patrick’s crib, and pass out. We’ll unpack tomorrow. Can you tell everyone helping us move in to come at ten? I want to try to get up a little early to start getting used to the time change.”

Manu nodded, shifting Patrick into his left hand, resting on his hip, so that he could pull his phone out of his right pocket and send a group text. He had chosen a few ruggers he knew—Cameron Leslie, Dan Buckingham, and Maia Amai—as well as a few of the track and field people he was close to—Jed, and three younger runners named Craig, Ben, and Emmett, all of whom were teenagers or in their very early twenties. “I’ve got seven people, eight if you include me, so we should be able to get you unpacked and have a lot of people to help entertain Patrick too.”

“Oh thank God,” Dean mumbled as he followed Manu out toward the accessible van that was waiting outside.

* * *

It felt like waking up in the middle of the night when the alarm in the new O’Gorman-Turner apartment went off at 9:00 in the morning. “Fuck,” Dean groaned, poking Aidan with his curled up left hand to make him turn the blaring alarm on the younger man’s phone off. “Just once,” he muttered as Aidan swiped across the screen and made the noise stop, “I want to be able to sleep in. Or hit snooze.”  
“If our alarm was set for 8:30, we could hit snooze,” the Irishman pointed out with a sleepy grin. “Face it, babe: quadriplegic life means getting up early every day to get dressed.”

Dean dropped his head onto his husband’s shoulder. “See, that’s cool every time that we’re not jet-lagged.” He sighed and slowly began to push himself into a sitting position. “Can’t we just move in while we’re still wearing our pajamas?” he asked hopefully.

Aidan snorted. “You’re naked,” he pointed out. “If you’re going to get dressed, you might as well get fully dressed. I’ll help you first, then throw on my clothes. We’ll let Paddy sleep as long as possibly. He must be exhausted.”

The older man resigned himself to getting dressed, and leaned against the headboard of their bed as his husband got up and began to pull out clothes for both of them. Their suitcases were in the bedroom, but the boxes of clothes and other things that had been sent ahead were in the living room, leaving them with only a few clothing options—jeans and t-shirts for the both of them. “Can you get my catheter out first?” Dean asked, speaking over a long yawn. “I think I need to pee,” he explained.

“Yeah, give me a sec,” Aidan answered, tossing clothes on the bed before digging through their second suitcase to get a new condom attachment, which he hooked up to the tubing and bag and put on his husband. “Want baggy jeans to hide the bag, or do you not give a fuck?” he asked, so used to this routine that he barely noticed Dean pressing on his bladder and the bag filling up, until the bag was pretty full. He frowned. “That’s way too much to be in your bladder. I’m really starting to think a suprapubic catheter is the way to go. You’re going to get a UTI. You may even have a UTI already.”

It felt like a bit of a tired refrain when Dean replied, “After Tokyo,” but that was what he needed. With less than year to go until the summer games, he couldn’t afford the time off to get and recover from surgery, especially not after taking a few weeks off for his injury. When Aidan continued to frown, the older man promised, “I’ll be more careful, okay? And baggy jeans, please. I know everyone coming will understand, but you know I have a thing about first impressions.”

“Baggy it is,” Aidan said cheerfully, laying off the bladder subject for the time being. “Let me empty that bag and we’ll get dressed, yeah?”

Dean nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from falling back asleep while Aidan was in the bathroom. “Are you regretting our move yet?” he asked, an honest question lurking under the teasing tone.

“Hell no,” Aidan replied, kissing his husband’s thigh as he reattached the bag; even though Dean couldn’t feel it, he knew the Kiwi liked the gesture. “Manu said Cameron Leslie is coming, and I want him to teach Paddy to swim, and my girl crush, Maia Amai, so, like, today is going to be fucking awesome. I might try to play recreationally with the murderball team here, or try to find a way to play in scrimmages if they’re after work. Meeting some of the team will be great.”

Dean smiled. “The track people coming are awesome too,” he informed the younger man happily, relaxing as Aidan started moving his legs around to get on his briefs and jeans. “Emmett can help with where to position things; he only has one hand, so he knows how to position things to make it easy. Jed and Craig will probably just hold Patrick instead of doing work, but someone needs to keep him entertained.”

“Run me through the track and field guys’ disabilities?” Aidan requested. “I know Jed has mild to moderate CP, but the others?”

“Craig is visually impaired and T11; I think he has a bit of light perception? Anyway, Ben is his guide. They’re both pretty great. Craig also does the biathlon, so he’s super multi-talented. He has a different guide for that, though. Emmett is a triple amputee—both legs and his right arm. One leg is BTK, one is ATK, and I think his arm amputation includes part of the shoulder. I think they’re actual amputations and not congenital, but I’m not positive. He’s probably going to be another baby holder, but, hey. We can’t help that our baby is so damn cute.”

Aidan hummed in agreement and fell silent once more as he got dressed; he was too tired to really keep up a conversation. Once he was comfortable in shorts and a t-shirt, having happily switched from the London winter to the Wellington summer, he started to help Dean with his clothes. The process was, as always, long and difficult, and they had barely gotten Dean into his chair when they heard a knock on the door.

When Aidan opened the door, he just raised his eyebrows in exhausted surprise. “Did you all carpool or something?” he asked, moving aside to let people roll and walk in.

“Nah,” Manu answered, shutting the door behind himself. “We all arrived in the car park at the same time, pretty much, and decided to give you guys a couple extra minutes to get dressed.”

Jed smiled brightly. “I brought pastries!” he announced, putting a box on the counter. “Oh, hey, Dean,” he added as his friend came out of the bedroom in his power chair. “Right, Aidan doesn’t know anyone but me and Manu. Craig, Ben, and Emmett here run track, and Maia, Dan, and Cameron play rugby. And Cameron swims, because he’s one of those awful people who are great at everything. Oh, and Craig skis because he’s also just awful.”

“Jed’s just jealous,” Craig said in a stage whisper.

“Where’s Patrick?” Jed asked, looking around for the little boy. He spotted a closed door and opened it slowly, grinning widely when he saw Patrick sleeping in a crib. “There’s the little guy! He’s so big,” he said softly, walking into the room and carefully picking the infant and cuddling him close, walking back to the entryway with gentle steps to avoid waking him up.

“Is that your son?” Maia asked with a huge smile.

Aidan nodded, still feeling a bit star struck by Maia fucking Amai. “Patrick,” he said. “He’s a little over a year old.” He looked over at his sleeping son with a fond grin, and then sighed. “We need to start unpacking, don’t we?”

“Not to be a dick, but is there any coffee first?” Manu asked, lips twitching into a smile when he saw some of the others looking relieved that he had brought it up. “I brought grounds, if we can find your coffee maker,” he added when Dean shook his head. “Is there a box of kitchen stuff?” He looked through all the boxes that were piled in the living room, moving over to dig through until he found one with “kitchen” marked on the side in Dean’s uncoordinated handwriting. “I’ll start that.”

Cameron smiled cheerfully, trying to be helpful while meeting new people. “I’m not so great with fragile things, so I should only handle clothes and stuff that can take a beating.”

“You and me both,” Dean said, a knowing grin on his face. “We can figure out Patrick’s stuff first. Anyone else have coordination problems or anything like that?” he asked, wanting to know what people can do.

Craig waved his hand to get people’s attention. “I can do that, or work with some more delicate stuff if Ben shows me around a bit so I know where to put things. I have a flat in the training center too, but it’s a one bedroom, and I don't know if the layout’s the same.”

“That’s probably a good idea. Cameron and I can do the soft and, like, not breakable shit, but there’s enough delicate stuff that you guys should work on that,” Dean said, turning as he heard Manu clanking around, trying to find the coffee maker. The other man crowed victoriously when he found it, and went about setting it up and starting a large pot.

Jed looked down as he heard some snuffling, and smiled as Patrick’s eyes blinked open. “Hey, buddy!” he said happily, but his smile dropped a little bit when the little boy’s eyes filled with tears.

“Dada?” Patrick said miserably, looking around for his fathers.

“Right here, sweetie,” Dean said, taking Patrick from Jed. “Sorry, he’s a little attached,” he said to the other man, feeling bad his son apparently wasn’t Jed’s biggest fan. “If it’s cool with you,” he added to Cameron, “we’ll keep him in the nursery with us, give him his legs or his chair, and close the door so he can’t escape.”

Cameron nodded and shrugged. “He’s cute,” he said indulgently, waving at Patrick. “And I like kids who do the whole ‘prosthetics and wheelchairs’ thing, because that’s what I do. Manu told me you both use chairs, and I wanted everything to be easy to reach, so I brought the chair today, but I’d love to help him learn to walk. I’ve got similar level congenital amputations, I think,” he explained.

“That’d be great,” Aidan said enthusiastically. “I don’t really remember walking, I’ve never had prostheses, and I can’t exactly demonstrate for him. How’s the coffee coming?” he asked Manu. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out if I don’t have a few cups.”

Manu glanced at the coffee pot as it slowly filled. “Give it a few minutes.”

“Hey, bug,” Aidan said cheerfully, stealing Patrick from Dean. “Let’s go to your room and choose the wheelchair or legs, okay?” he suggested, taking the little boy into the nursery. As he often did, he pulled out his son’s small wheelchair and tiny prostheses and put them a meter apart, and put Patrick on the floor two meters away, allowing him to crawl over and choose.

As was becoming more and more common, Patrick cheerfully headed straight for his purple legs, picking one up and looking at his younger father expectantly. He had learned to stay relatively still while the plastic prostheses were being put on, and soon his was wobbling out of the nursery to wander around the new apartment curiously.

“Oh my God, his prosthetics are so cute,” Maia said. “They’re purple,” she added for Craig’s benefit. “When did he get them? He’s walking really well.”

Aidan nodded, watching proudly as his son toddled around and tried to open taped-up boxes. “A few months ago, I guess? He seems to like them more than his chair, at least for now, so he gets a lot of practice,” he explained.

“Hey, little guy,” Dan said, smiling as Patrick wandered over toward him, grabbing onto his wheelchair frame with chubby hands. “Look at how cute he is,” he said, looking over at Cameron with his eyebrows raised significantly. “Really look.”

Cameron blushed a little. “Yeah, he is,” he muttered. “Let’s, uh, coffee?” he mumbled, clearly changing the subject.

With a barely concealed grin, Aidan ripped open a box and started to unwrap mugs from bubble wrap, taking them over to the sink. “Mind sharing one?” he asked Dean, realizing that they didn’t have enough for everyone. They took their coffee in different ways, but they could sacrifice their preferences to make sure all their helpful volunteers got coffee too.

“No problem,” Dean answered, looking at the mugs and counting them mentally. “Okay, there’s eight of you and we’ll share a mug, but we don't have nine mugs.”

“Ben and I can share,” Craig volunteered; he was close to his guide, and they’d shared water bottle enough to already have each other’s germs.

Still blushing a bit, Cameron quietly said, “I’ll share with Dan.”

“I’ll share with Manu, even though he’s gross and awful,” Jed said with a smirk.

Aidan nodded. “Perfect, because we have six mugs. Did you by any chance bring cream or sugar?” he asked Manu hopefully, feeling relieve when the larger man nodded. “Oh thank God.”

Dean wrinkled his nose, but he’d suffer through Aidan’s sweet preferences for coffee. “Is it flavored creamer?” he asked apprehensively, restraining a groan when Manu nodded.

“Sorry,” Aidan said, not sounding sorry at all. “Is it okay if he does that?” he asked, noticing that Patrick was moving around wheelchairs and hanging onto each one in turn.

“Yeah,” Maia said enthusiastically, leaning down to smile at Patrick and tickle his cheek as he grabbed one of the handrims of her chair. “Hi, buddy. You seem like a nice little guy.”

Dan smiled as he watched Patrick wandering around, reaching not only for wheelchairs, but also for Craig’s red and white cane. The runner easily dealt with it, since Ben warned him, and he laughed and talked happily to the little boy. “Cute,” Dan stage-whispered to Cameron. “So freaking cute.”

The other rugby player rolled his eyes. “I get it,” he mumbled. “You think babies are cute and don’t understand the meaning of subtly. Please shut up.”

“Sorry,” Dan said quietly, clearly knowing he had made the blond uncomfortable. “I’ll stop.” He gave the other man an apologetic grimace. “So... coffee?” he asked awkwardly, clearly trying to change the subject.

Luckily, Manu was sympathetic and tactful, and he nodded. “Yeah. Hand me the cups, Aidan,” he requested, pouring coffee into each of the mugs he was given, and putting out the powdered creamer for the others to pour into their drinks.

“I guess we need to start,” Ben said after a few sips of French vanilla-flavored coffee. “Let me show you around before we do anything,” he said, offering his arm to the his running partner and leading him around the flat, quietly explaining the layout and making sure that Craig touched various surfaces to know where they were.

Dean rolled over to the stack of boxes on the floor of the living room, getting Aidan to put a box of Patrick’s things on his lap. “Want to come to the nursery?” he asked Cameron, who nodded. “Can you grab Paddy to bring him in with us?” he added, smiling as the other blond scooped up the tiny boy, holding him in his lap to bring him into the nursery. Dean was dying to ask him about Dan, but he could tell that the rugby player was uncomfortable with that subject.

“So, uh, how was your trip?” Cameron asked as he began to tear the box open.

“Awful,” Dean answered honestly. “Patrick was good for most of the trip, but he started crying in the last hour. Don’t travel with a one-year-old.,” he advised. “Thanks for helping with this. We’re not keeping you from anything important, right?”

Cameron shook his head, smiling as he finally got the box open. “Nah. Today’s my day off from training, and I know it’s awful to try to move in when you don't have a lot of dexterity.”

Dean was briefly distracted from the unpacking bit when Patrick tumbled over, but the little boy got up and kept toddling around, exploring his new room. The older man turned back to the box he was working out of, opening a couple drawers and starting to put clothes inside somewhat haphazardly. “Things don't really need to be neat,” he told Cameron as the other man started to pull out clothes and toys.

“Good,” Cameron answered, dropping a few small outfits into a drawer. “Should his toys go into a drawer or what?”

“There’s a basket in the box,” Dean explained. “Stick ‘em in there.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes, until Cameron began to talk again. “So Aidan retired from professional rugby?” he asked. He was a little surprised, having played against the Irishman in Rio; the guy was good, and clearly very invested in the sport.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, trying and failing to keep Patrick’s clothes folded as he put them into the drawer. “The Irish team kind of tanked after Rio, so they weren’t going to qualify for Tokyo, and he decided he didn’t want to travel back and forth from London to Dublin to train. He works full-time, and weekends are the only time he has to spend with Paddy, so he wasn’t about to give them up.”

“Makes sense to me,” Cameron said, nodding. “If he wants to play, though, we could use him in some practices. Having someone unpredictable in a scrimmage would be really nice. We get a bit complacent playing against each other,” he explained. “We all know each other’s moves and strategies, so it’s easy to play against that.”

“I’ll tell him that,” Dean said with a smile. “He’d really like that, I think. You guys should exchange numbers, too, just to make things easier. He’ll probably go into happy shock if he gets Maia’s number,” he added with a bit of a laugh. “He adores her.”

Cameron grinned and shrugged. “Why wouldn’t he?” he asked, knowing that his teammate was one of the most impressively badass rugby players on the planet. “I’ll get your number too. Dan and I’d be happy to babysit Patrick.” A small blush spread over his cheeks, but he clearly wasn’t as embarrassed as when Dan had been hinting loudly and obviously about babies in front of everyone.

Once again, Dean really wanted to ask about Dan, but knew he shouldn’t. Instead, he thanked Cameron. Before he could start a different conversation, he heard a _thunk_ , followed by tears. He went to rescue his crying son, who had walked into his own crib roughly, and then the move-in day continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls dont judge me 4 the cameron/dan thing :)


	49. Moved In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked rly hard 2 finish the chap 2day so i could post this note :)
> 
> RITE NOW is the world wc rugby challenge. usa, nz, s africa, canada, gb, australia, japan, and france r all playing & it's fucking awesome. the us beat s africa by nearly 40 pts earlier today. & it's being live streamed! look @ [this page](http://www.iwrf.com/?page=iwrf_news&id=472) on the intl wc rugby fed website for results, schedule, & a link 2 live streams. i'm american & hoping my team will win, but the other teams r good & murderball is always good 2 watch. nz has been struggling 4 the past few years, so beating s africa and only losing 2 the us by 9 pts is rly good.

“There’s my little man!” Aidan exclaimed as he rolled into the daycare at the bank, seeing his son wobbling around near some blocks. He swooped down and picked the little boy up, kissing his chubby cheek. “How was he today?” he asked, turning toward Kelly, one of the wonderful young women who ran the program and took care of the children.

“Pretty good,” Kelly replied, rocking a baby who looked to be about six months old as she spoke. “He cried a lot at naptime, but I think he’s still adjusting to the new people. He’s only been in daycare for a week; he should be fine in a week. Bye-bye, Patrick,” she added, smiling and waving to the boy in Aidan’s eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Turner,” she added.

The Irishman shook his head. “Aidan. Kelly. I’m just Aidan.” He looked down at Patrick, kissing him again before putting him into his stroller and heading from the daycare toward the parking lot. “Let’s go home to Daddy and eat some dinner, okay?”

Patrick looked up at him, smiling, “Yum!” he exclaimed, using one of his favorite new words. He kicked his purple legs around, looking around at the building as he and Aidan rolled through the lobby and into the parking lot.

It took around half an hour to get back to their apartment building on the training center, and just a couple minutes to park and open the door of their flat.

“Dada!” Patrick yelled, running toward the living room as soon as he was put down on the floor. He found his older father and happily ran into his legs, trying unsuccessfully to crawl up into his lap. Once Aidan had detached the stroller, he followed his son into the living room and lifted the little boy into the New Zealander’s lap.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, kissing his husband lovingly even as the older man embraced their son happily as the little boy squirmed around in his lap. “How was practice?”

“Good,” Dean answered, tilting his chair back and letting Patrick crawl around on his chest some. “Worked on my endurance, mostly. How did work go?”

Aidan smiled. “It was good. I’m getting into the swing of things, and making a few friends. Plus I can check on Paddy at lunch. I’m a little worried about him being in daycare so young, but checking on him makes me feel better.”

Dean smiled as Patrick reached up and patted his face. “Yum?” the little boy asked, sounding hopeful.

“You want dinner, buddy?” Dean asked. “What about Da makes dinner, and Daddy gives you a bath? We can bring your little tub out here so that Da’s around for safety, and you can play with your toys.”

Patrick smiled widely. “Ba,” he said, using his shortened word for bath.

After making sure Aidan thought it was a good plan, Dean handed their son off to the younger of the two parents and went to get the small portable tub from the bathroom, along with baby shampoo, a washcloth, and a fresh diaper and shirt for Patrick. “Let’s get some warm water in this and take a bath,” the blond enthused, handing the tub to Aidan so that the Irishman could fill it with warm water from the sink. “Time for Paddy to get naked!” he teased cheerfully, getting his son onto his lap to undress him with slow but careful hands. “Say thanks to Da,” he said, giving Aidan a little kiss as the younger man brought a low table close to his husband and son and put the tub on top of it.

“Da!” Patrick chirped, waving clumsily at the brunet before turning back to Dean as he was lowered into the tub. Once his older father had him situated so that he couldn’t slide down, he began to splash around, making himself almost too wiggly to be washed.

“Can you sit still, buddy?” Dean asked hopefully, completely unsurprised when that didn’t work. “Well, we can work around that, I guess.” He squirted some shampoo onto the washcloth and began to wash his son, careful not to get any of the suds in the infant’s eyes.

Seeing his son moving around excitedly out of the corner of his eye, Aidan moved away from the counter and picked up a toy. “Hey, bug, want a ducky?” he asked, leaning over to hand the plastic toy to the little boy. “Try to be still for Daddy, okay? We’ve got yummy pasta with vegetable sauce, and I’ll cut some up for you,” he promised, turning back the counter. His water was just starting to boil, so he dumped in the fresh pasta he had picked up the day before, and put the sauce in a pan to heat it up. He would have preferred to make the sauce, but he was too hungry to take the time for that. “Dinner should be ready in five minutes, guys. If you aren’t done, I’ll keep it warm.”

“He’s pretty much clean,” Dean replied, reaching over to drag the towel closer, keeping an eye on Patrick as he did so. “Time to get dry!” he cooed, picking his son up and putting him down on the towel, holding him down firmly so that he couldn’t wiggle off the table. “How do you have all this energy?” he asked Patrick as the little boy squirmed around while getting dried off. “Daddy and Da are about to fall asleep in their chairs, and you look like you just had espresso.”

“He gets naps,” Aidan pointed out, draining the water from the pasta and sliding the noodles into a bowl. “I’m jealous of that. Why don’t bankers get naps?” he wondered idly as he mixed the sauce in, glancing over at Dean to see if the older man could help him put food on the table, but the New Zealander had his hands full getting a diaper on their son.

By the time Dean managed to get a diaper, prostheses, and a shirt on Patrick, he saw that their plates already had pasta on them, and there were glasses of water. Patrick’s highchair had his spoon along with cut-up pasta, and a sippy cup with formula. “You’re so on top of things,” he told his husband, clearly impressed. “Can you get this guy in his highchair?” he requested, needing to change the angle of his seat. The second his son was out of his lap, he tilted back to redistribute the pressure on his ass and thighs.

Despite all his previous energy, by the time both of his parents had finished eating, Patrick’s eyes were drooping and he could barely hold his sippy cup, much less bring it to his face to drink from it. He yawned squeakily ever few minutes, and eventually he was plucked from his seat and held close to Aidan’s chest. Within minutes, he was snoring softly.

“He’s got the right idea,” Dean commented with a grin. “Let’s get him in bed and then clean up, yeah?”

Aidan nodded, careful not to wake Patrick up as he slowly made his way to the nursery. “I still need to shower, babe, but I can help you get ready for bed first, if you want,” he offered as he came back into the kitchen, picking up the dishes that Dean hadn’t managed to fit on his lap.

“We haven’t showered together in ages,” Dean mused, looking over at Aidan while rinsing plates to put in the dishwasher.

“What are you talking about? You showered here on Sunday, and I’m kind of an important part of you getting showered,” Aidan pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes, moving away from the sink when he finished up with the plates, allowing room for Aidan to get in and wash what was still dirty. “Yeah, but that’s just helping me shower. I meant shower together, not just me getting showered. Come on, Aid,” he wheedled. “I could do with a second shower. A warm one would be good for my back, and so would some massage. You know, strong hands on my back or shoulders… and I’d be willing to compensate the person who massages me,” he teased.

Raising an eyebrow, Aidan looked over at his husband. “Really?” he asked, failing to come off as indifferent as he had hoped to. “I’m good at massages. I can provide references. There’s a guy I’ve massaged before who has a world record and gold medals in track, he knows I’m good.”

“I’ll check with him,” Dean replied seriously, and then broke out into a huge grin. “Come on, babe, we’ve been tired and busy from moving, and we haven’t had a chance for much since we got here.” He propped his arm on his legs and pushed his torso forward to lean toward Aidan, nipping the Irishman’s jaw gently. “If you’re too tired for all that, I can just blow you,” he offered bluntly.

“No, no, I’m awake enough,” Aidan said hastily. “Give me two minutes, okay?”

It took less than two minutes for Aidan to rinse things off and get the dishwasher started; it turned out that the key to efficiency was sufficient motivation. He leaned over and gave Dean a brief but deep kiss, and headed for the bedroom. He knew that the older man was following him, hearing the gentle hum of a power chair just behind him.

“Let’s get you undressed,” the brunet said, stopping by the bed. “God, those fucking muscles,” he groaned as Dean slowly pulled off his t-shirt with uncoordinated and stiff hands. “Do you know how damn hard it is not to tackle you down in public when you’ve got a tank top on?”

Dean smirked. “Is it as hard as it is for me to stay calm when you take your shirt off and show off the rugby arms? Mm, and abs,” he added as he watched his husband peel off his shirt quickly. “The way that your abs clench when you’re riding me, babe? God, it makes me go wild.” He reached out with his left arm and tugged the younger man closer by his hair so that he could kiss him. “Okay, rest of clothes off, yeah?”

Aidan nodded eagerly, reaching down to start the somewhat difficult process of tugging Dean’s track pants down his legs, along with his underwear. “Push up?” he requested, yanking the fabric down quickly as Dean put his arms on his armrests and pushed up enough that his butt and thighs were an inch or two off the seat. “You can go down,” he told the older man once the pants and underwear were down far enough. They came off the rest of the way pretty easily. “We need warm water in the shower, because your circulation fucking sucks today.”

“Hopefully it’s good enough in the right places,” Dean said with a wry grin. “Come on, get naked too, and we’ll get in the shower.” He watched contentedly as Aidan stripped efficiently. “Sometimes I can’t believe that I’m married to someone so damn hot.”

Aidan grinned, prodding Dean to lead the way out of the bedroom and across the hall to the large bathroom. The older man did so, and they were soon by the shower. “Want help getting the cath off?” the Irishman asked.

The blond nodded, and it only took a couple of seconds to dispose of the urine from the bag and the condom attachment. “Let’s get in the shower. This shower is fucking great,” he added as he and Aidan maneuvered him onto the shower seat. “The water heats up so fast.”

“I know,” Aidan agreed, reaching up to turn the water on. “It’s amazing. Let me get…” He opened the cabinet under the sink and found some lube, grinning.

“Bad idea,” Dean said, glancing over. “I’m not going to risk breaking the damn shower seat. Not after just a couple weeks. I’d never live that down. If you tried to play rugby, they’d all know you as the guy who broke a shower seat during sex. Even if we never told anyone, word gets around.”

Aidan sighed, clearly disappointed. “Fine,” he muttered, transferring into the shower, which was already nice and warm. “We’ll go back to bed once we wash up and, uh, warm up.” He leaned over and kissed his husband’s collarbone, biting on it just a little. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

The older man gasped a little, loving the feel of sharp teeth on his sensitive upper body. “Babe, you have to wash first,” he pointed out, voice just a tad breathy. “Wash up and then you can do that.” He paused, watching appreciatively at the way Aidan slowly rubbed soap over himself. “Fucking hell, Aid.”

With his hand still rubbing soap across his chest, Aidan bit his lip flirtatiously. “I’m just getting clean,” he said innocently, laughing when Dean gently swatted him with his right arm. “I’ll be efficient,” he promised, washing and rinsing more quickly after that. A couple moments later, he found his way into Dean’s lap, kissing him deeply and grinding down slowly into his lap.

“Yeah,” Dean gasped, pulling away to pant a little bit as nimble, strong fingers slid up his torso and came to stop as his left nipple, pinching and rubbing roughly. “I can’t do much for you right now,” he groaned apologetically. “If I let go of the grab bar, I’ll fall,” he explained, and Aidan shushed him.

“I know,” the younger man said, licking his way up Dean’s neck. “Good thing you turn me on so much without even using your hand,” he whispered. He felt the New Zealander’s closed-up hand juddering up his side, and he grinned. “I’m going to grind on your stomach,” he informed his husband, sucking at the base of Dean’s neck as he pushed his hips forward, moving them in little circles to get himself more aroused, though, frankly, he didn’t need that much help. Between how attracted he always was to the other man and the fact they hadn’t had sex in a while, Aidan was having no trouble getting it up for his husband. “God, you’re getting a bit hard too, babe.”

“Good,” Dean breathed, biting his lip and moaning softly as Aidan continued to play with his nipples. “What do you want tonight, babe? I’ll give you whatever the hell you want, just tell me.”

It took Aidan a few seconds to pause and gather his wits so that he could reply. “Shit,” he whispered, clearly at a loss for what he wanted to reply. “Not to be boring and predictable, but I want to ride you into the mattress as hard as I can tonight.”

Dean grinned, knocking his right hand into Aidan’s hip a little harder than he meant to. “Sorry,” he panted. “But, fuck, that sounds perfect.” He ran his hand around the younger man’s waist to drag his hand down to the pert ass that rested on his thighs. “Don’t need anymore foreplay, babe,” he mumbled plaintively. “Just take me to bed, get me hard, and fuck me.”

“Like I can say no to that,” Aidan groaned, lifting his head from Dean’s neck and collarbone and scooting over to turn off the water. “We didn’t think this through,” he muttered as they scooted around to try to get back to their wheelchairs. “How the hell are we supposed to do all the transfers while I have an erection?”

Despite their awkward movements, from excitement and exhaustion alike, they managed to get back into their chairs and into the bedroom without losing much arousal. With a little help from Aidan, Dean landed on his back in bed, reaching over for the brunet until he climbed on top of him. “I want you to ride me,” the older man began breathlessly, “so fucking hard that you make me forget you’ve retired from professional sport. I want you to move around like you’re more than in your prime. Understand?” he asked, enjoying the feeling of being commanding.

“Fuck, yeah,” Aidan answered, pulling out a bottle of lube and dripping some onto his fingers, reaching behind himself as he leaned over to suck at his husband’s stiff nipples. He jerked his head away, though, to keep himself from biting as he breached himself with a finger, a thrill running through his body. “I want you so bad,” he muttered. “I just wish I could open myself up and get you hard at the same time,” he lamented. “I want you inside me right fucking now.”

“Shit,” Dean grunted, arching his neck. “Babe, you’re killing me. Wish I could get myself hard for you because I need it right now too.” He dragged the nails of his left hand down the younger man’s back, sighing at the cries that elicited. “Yeah, you like that?”

“You know I do,” Aidan gasped, thrusting a second finger inside of himself quickly. It stung, but he wanted to get fucked as soon as possible. “Fuck, I just want to do this so hard that I can’t sit right tomorrow.” He leaned down to kiss and nip at his husband’s neck, wanting to keep the other man as aroused as possible. “If we’d thought ahead, I could’ve done the pump for you in the shower.” He pressed a third finger into himself with a groan, just trying to get himself open efficiently so that he could get Dean hard.

Dean watched the younger man breathlessly, enthralled by the way the brunet jerked around on top of him. “You look so fucking good,” he moaned, biting his lip as his husband cried out loudly, clearly having hit his own prostrate. “You sure you’re ready?” he asked in amazement when Aidan pulled his fingers out and reached down for Dean’s cock, which was just the slightest bit hard from the contact in the shower earlier.

“Yeah,” Aidan assured his husband, jerking the cock in his hand with sure strokes. “I want it, don’t care if it stings a bit.” He smirked a little, feeling the flesh between his fingers twitch and jerk. “Going a couple weeks without makes me pretty desperate.” Leaning over, he sucked his husband’s right nipple into his mouth, pulling out every trick he had to get Dean hard and aroused as quickly as possible; he hadn’t been kidding when he had said he was desperate.

“Am I ready?” Dean gasped after a couple minutes. He felt more than ready, but he wasn’t sure if his cock had gotten with the program. “Please tell me I’m ready,” he added, looking down as Aidan sat up a bit. “Fuck yeah,” he groaned, seeing that he was good and hard. “Come on, baby,” he encouraged, biting his lip to keep quiet as Aidan situated himself before slowly lowering himself onto Dean’s erection.

Aidan held his breath as he settled on his husband’s hips, also working hard to keep himself from any loud noises that could wake their son up. “Fuck,” he groaned as he paused, completely filled, to adjust to the feeling. “God, you feel so good inside me.”

“Yeah,” Dean panted, grabbing onto the younger man’s ass as well as he could with his right hand and squeezing roughly. “You aren’t going to last, are you?” he asked with a bit of a grin, but choked on his breath when Aidan started to move.

Shamelessly, Aidan shook his head. “It’s going to be quick,” he admitted, knowing Dean wouldn’t judge. “I’ll make it quick for you too,” he promised, sliding his hand up the New Zealander’s side before starting to pinch and tug at his nipple. “I’ll get you off so hard, babe,” he muttered, knowing that dirty talk helped his husband. “I’m going to ride you until I come sobbing your name, and then I’m going to bite your nipples. Hard,” he added, grunting as he began to ride Dean roughly instead of just rocking. “I’ll leave bruises all over you. Everyone’s going to see them, they’re going to know how hot I get you, how great you fuck.” He gasped loudly as he hit a particularly good angle, fingers slipping and nails catching on his husband’s nipple harder than he meant to.

“Oh my God,” Dean cried, barely keeping himself from screaming, arm jerking on the bed as he felt a surge of pleasure. Nothing really gave him full, extreme sensation below the neck anymore, but that had come damn close. “Keep doing that and I might finish before you,” he panted, watching in awe at the way Aidan’s face contorted in pleasure.

“Not likely,” Aidan groaned, leaning down to try to rub his cock against the blond man’s stomach to help get himself off. The complexities of sex with Dean meant that he had become accustomed to coming without a hand on his cock, but extra stimulation always helped. “I really fucking needed this,” he moaned, moving himself a little harder. “God, babe,” he breathed, wishing he could grab Dean’s hair, but he didn’t want to stop working the older man’s nipple, since jabbing his longer-than-usual nails into the tight nub was making his husband cry out in need every couple seconds. “You sound so fucking good. Are you going to come for me, babe? Are you?”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean breathed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped through the arousal. “Real soon. Yeah, that…” His head tipped back as pleasure started to overtake him. “Just a bit more… just…” He shuddered a little, nails digging into the flesh of Aidan’s ass as he came, biting his lip to keep quiet as ecstasy flooded his upper body. “Fuck, babe,” he groaned, relaxing back into the pillows tiredly. “If I’m still hard, you can ride me ‘til you get off.”

Feeling the thick rigidity of his husband still inside of him, Aidan nodded and began to move, grunting softly as he did so. He hand moved from his husband’s chest to his own cock, jerking himself in a quick rhythm as he bounced on Dean’s hard cock. “God, Dean,” he groaned, rolling his hips faster and faster as he got closer to the edge. “God. I just…”

“That’s it,” Dean encouraged, watching, enthralled, as Aidan’s abs twitched and flexed with his movements.

“Oh, God,” Aidan groaned, giving himself two more strokes before coming with a low sigh and slumping forward onto Dean’s chest. “That was nice,” he mumbled a minute later, rolling off of his husband. “Maybe next time it’ll even last,” he added with a breathless laugh.

Dean turned his head to nuzzle into Aidan’s neck happily. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That was a great fucking orgasm, though.”

“God knows how I’ll sit comfortably tomorrow,” Aidan mused, wrapping an arm around his husband. “Cameron and Dan are coming over for dinner tomorrow and I’m going to be squirming so bad.”

“Oh well,” Dean said breezily. “We can worry about that later.”


	50. I'm Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW its been 4ever since i upd8d & im rly sry!! i finished college & b/w that & editing all the chapters 4 aidans disability its been months!
> 
> there was a mixed reaction n the comments 2 me changing the story a bit & giving aidan an arm amputation but i hope ppl r ok w it. the whole plot is still the same so u dont have 2 read it again now that ive changed it. aidan just has 1 fewer hand. (the right one was the amputated 1 n this).
> 
> anyway i hope 2 upd8 more now that im back!

“Literally dying,” Dean said dramatically as he came into the flat one evening, about an hour after Aidan had gotten home with their son.

“Dada!” Patrick yelled, stumbling a little as he tried to run to his older father. “Da, up!” he called out, looking impatiently towards Aidan as he waited for the Irishman to come over and lift him into Dean’s lap. “Dada,” he said fondly, leaning his head into the Kiwi’s chest.

Smiling, Dean wrapped an arm around his son. “Did you have a good day? Daddy had a long day and worked really hard. Are you getting excited to go to Tokyo?”

Patrick just kept snuggling close, holding onto Dean’s shirt tightly as his fathers leaned in and kissed each other before heading into the kitchen.

“Practice was rough?” Aidan asked softly, making a sympathetic noise when his husband just groaned. “Training’s stepping up for Tokyo, I guess. Paddy helped me make a salad for dinner, so just have some and relax. You’ve already showered at the track, right?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, Tim got me showered and I’m just going to wear this to bed,” he said, glancing down at his t-shirt and loose shorts, which Patrick was tugging on happily. “Paddy, are you hungry?”

Smiling widely, Patrick pointed over to the kitchen. “Vroom!” he said, making an engine noise to tell his father to move. He was only a little over a year old, but he knew what he wanted, and he leaned forward towards the joystick of his older father’s power chair.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go get you some food,” Dean said with a laugh, getting to his joystick to steer before Patrick could hit it and run them into a wall. “How was work, babe?” he asked his husband, hearing the other man following them just a few feet behind.

“Pretty good,” Aidan replied, heading for the refrigerator to get out the salad and the dressing. “My work is pretty interesting right now, and I ate lunch with two women whose offices are near mine, so I have friends now.” He put the salad on the table for him and Dean and found a box of Cheerios in the cabinet for Patrick to supplement with carrots. “Okay, dinner, guys.”

Dean stuck Patrick into his high chair and rolled up to his own place. “Are you missing rugby?” he asked, a little worried that his husband was already regretting leaving his team and, more broadly, their life in Britain in general.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered honestly, putting salad onto both of their plates. “Still glad we moved,” he added, knowing what Dean’s question was really about. “Cameron texted me this morning, and I think I’m going to play with the Wheel Blacks on Saturday, if you don’t mind watching Paddy alone.”

Patrick looked up at the sound of his own name, but when he saw that his fathers weren’t handing him something or playing with him, he went back to stuffing handfuls of Cheerios in his mouth.

“That sounds good,” Dean said, really happy that Aidan could play rugby that weekend after having to give it up when they moved. “Paddy and I will be fine, right? Paddy, you and Daddy are a good team. We can play with blocks all day!”

In his high chair, Patrick wiggled happily at the attention he was getting.

“Mm, I’m going to be in a charity 5k the weekend after next,” Dean said around a mouthful of salad. “It’s for a local children’s hospital, so it’s here and I won’t have to travel or anything. I’ll be gone most of the day, but it’s going to be awesome. Some of the kids who have been in the hospital and do sports now are going to be running with us, and we’re meeting them before, and then after we’re going to visit the kids in the hospital itself.”

Aidan smiled. “Paddy and I will come watch. You know I have a soft spot for children’s hospitals.” After the car crash, he had spent a long time in the children’s hospital in Dublin, and the physical and psychological treatment there had helped him recover to the point where he had the strength and confidence to become an athlete. “Are the kids who are racing on a local team?”

“Yeah, there’s one through the hospital,” Dean answered. “I asked about coaching, and they don’t need anyone right now, but they said they might want me to come in a couple times, since somehow I’m a New Zealand Paralympic celebrity.”

The brunet snorted. “More like New Zealand Paralympic royalty,” he countered. “That would be great, though. You show them that even if you haven’t been training in wheelchair track for your entire life, you can be amazing. You went from abled to Paralympic champion in about four years, Deano. That’s ridiculous.”

“I still can’t believe that happened,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I mean, I threw myself into training as soon as I’d recovered enough, and I was already pretty in shape, but it was pretty fast.” He paused for a bite of salad. “I know Paddy’s mostly learning life skills at home, but he might need more. I’ll talk to some people at the children’s hospital and see what kind of programs they have for little kids.”

“You really think he needs PT or OT?” Aidan asked, looking doubtful. “He’s got two functional hands and has figured out walking.”

Dean shook his head. “Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s got two functional hands and walks, and we don’t. I’m just worried he’ll hold himself back a bit and only do things with one hand when he could do them more easily with two. If he has some PT, he’ll learn how to do things more efficiently. And maybe he can meet some other disabled kids,” he added. “All the kids at daycare are able-bodied, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Aidan replied. “It’d be good for him to see other kids like him. He sees adults like him all the time, but no kids. I’m pretty sure he’s never gonna think there’s something wrong with him, but he should have someone his age who’s gonna get it when things are hard.” He paused. “But I don’t think he needs PT. He’s got two hands and he’s always been disabled.”

Though he wanted to respond, Dean got distracted when he missed his mouth with his fork and spilled food on himself.

“Uh-oh!” Patrick shouted happily.

Dean laughed. “Uh-oh is right,” he agreed, putting his fork down to pick up his napkin and wipe at himself. “I think Daddy’s gonna need a new shirt to sleep in,” he said ruefully.

“It’s summer,” Aidan pointed out. “You don’t need to wear a shirt to sleep. It’s nice and warm.” He looked over at Dean as the older man struggled to stab another bite of salad. “Do you want some help eating?” he asked, rolling a little closer when his husband nodded. “Are your hands acting up from distance training?” he inquired; he knew that long hours in racing gloves could make Dean’s right hand even tighter than usual.

“Yeah,” the blond admitted. “Aid, just dump your food on my plate,” he added as the younger man twisted to turn back to his own place at the table and get a bite. “It’s the exact same food, and turning back and forth makes no sense.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Give me a sec,” he muttered, poking a couple buttons on his wheelchair armrest to adjust the angle of tilt.

While Dean was messing around with his chair, Aidan took a few bites of salad, making faces at Patrick as he chewed. “Bug, you’re looking pretty tired,” he commented as the little boy yawned squeakily. “After dinner, Daddy can read you a story and put you to bed while Da does the dishes,” he promised.

“Da!” Patrick chirruped, putting his messy, mushy hands on his face and smeary carrots all over himself and making Aidan smirk.

“I already called doing dishes, so you’re the one who has to wash him,” the Irishman told his husband triumphantly. “Paddy, you’re one messy little guy, aren’t you?”

Dean smiled back at Aidan, though he was making a mental note to bring up the question of Patrick in PT once their son was in bed, and took another bite. He kept an eye on Patrick in his peripheral vision, seeing the way the little boy sagged forward in his highchair, clearly practically asleep. “I think I need to put him in bed,” he said to Aidan. “I’ve had enough,” he added as the younger man looked down at the salad, clearly concerned that his husband wasn’t full.

“See you in the bedroom,” Aidan replied, continuing to eat as Dean got Patrick out of his seat and put him in his lap.

With his left arm carefully holding Patrick close to him, Dean headed into the nursery with his son. Paddy was tiredly leaning against his father, getting carrot mush all over his already dirty shirt. “We need to clean you off first, don’t we?” Dean said, turning to take the little boy into the bathroom.

“Baf?” Patrick asked, pointing to the bathtub.

“No bath,” Dean replied, grabbing a washcloth and getting it damp with warm water. “Just wiping you off,” he explained, starting to gently rubbing at Patrick’s face with the cloth. “Sit still, buddy,” he added as the little boy kept turning away. “You really need to learn the meaning of still,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “You are the wiggliest little guy I’ve ever seen.”

“Dada,” Patrick whined, reaching up and trying to push Dean’s hand away insistently. “Dada!” he repeated, more insistently this time. “Dada!” he howled, tears springing to his eyes as exhaustion and a dislike of the texture of the washcloth piled up in misery.

“Okay, we’re all done,” Dean said calmly, putting the washcloth in the sink to clean off once he got his son to sleep. “Why don’t we stop crying and head to bed?” he suggested, shifting Patrick in his arms to let him snuggle into his chest as he took him to the nursery. “Yeah, that’s better,” he said as his son stopped crying. “Let’s get you a nappy, some jimjams, and read a story together.”

It took less than half an hour for Patrick to fall asleep, even with Dean’s slow and clumsy changing. After that, the New Zealander headed into the bathroom to get all of the carrot off of the washcloth before taking it into the bedroom and throwing it into the laundry basket, followed a few minutes later by his t-shirt, once he managed to wrestle it off.

“Hey,” Aidan said, coming up behind his husband. “Is the bug off to bed?”

Dean nodded, turning around in as tight a circle as he could manage to face his husband without bumping into his wheelchair. “Yeah. He fell apart when I was washing him off, but he’s asleep now,” he explained. “Look, I think Patrick needs PT, hands or no,” he said after a few moments. “I know you don’t think he does, but he can’t learn everything watching us when we don’t the same level of ability.”

“It’s different when you’re disabled as a kid,” Aidan argued. “He’ll figure everything out. He hasn’t spent years doing something one way that he has to change now.”

“Did you go to rehab as a kid?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t born disabled,” Aidan replied. “It’s different,” he repeated. “And I’ve only got one hand,” he added, holding up his right arm to show the stump.

“That’s why I want him to go to PT,” Dean said. “You have one hand, and only one of mine is functional. If he learns how to do things by watching us, he won’t do things as efficiently as he could. He might be doing everything with one hand when it would be faster to do with two.”

Aidan shook his head. “He’ll figure out that he’s got two hands and can do things more easily,” he countered. He sighed. “We’ve got a little while to decide this, babe. He’s only 16 months. If it looks like he’s only using one hand in a few months, we’ll get a PT eval, okay?” he suggested, deciding that compromise was the best solution. “Why are you so worried he won’t use both hands?”

“He doesn’t see anyone using both hands on a daily basis, so…”

“Yes, he does. Everyone who works at his daycare has two functional hands,” Aidan corrected. His eyebrows knit together. “Shite,” he muttered. “This is internalized ableism guilt.”

Dean shook his head. “No, it’s…” He groaned, wishing Aidan would just understand. “If my kid doesn’t do as well as he can because I can’t show him how to do things and won’t send him to PT to learn, maybe I shouldn’t have a kid.”

Aidan stared. “What the fuck has gotten into you?” he asked incredulously. “If that’s your fault, it’s mine too. How the hell could you think we shouldn’t have had a kid?”

“I’m saying if I won’t give him what he needs to succeed and send him to PT, I’m not a good parent.”

“You read that damn article,” Aidan muttered, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the laundry basket angrily. “You read it and you listened to the bullshit they said about if you’re fit to parent and how selfish it was to adopt a kid when you’re a quad and can’t do everything that abled parents can. How the hell can you believe that?”

Dean shrank back in his chair a little, unused to seeing his husband so angry. “It just made me think he should go to PT,” he said quietly. “I’m not ashamed of being a quad.”

“Then why the hell did you listen to anything in an article about how terrible it is for you to adopt a kid?” Aidan replied furiously, voice getting louder. “How the fuck are you listening to that? You know you’re better than all that. You’re listening to some shit that you should know better, and—”

“Shut up,” Dean interrupted tersely, finally getting pissed right along with his husband. “It’s not that easy for me! I’m not like you! I grew up taking in ableism and every now and then I still believe some of it.”

Aidan fumed. “You married me and adopted Patrick and all this time you’ve thought you aren’t as good as—“

“Get off your fucking high horse, Aidan,” Dean hissed, feeling close to losing his temper completely. “I have one damn moment of self-doubt and now I’m not good enough for you? I can’t get in bed without help and I’m not allowed to worry if I’m a good parent? Abled people worry that and don’t get bitched at by self-righteous husbands.”

“So I’m an asshole here?” Aidan asked. “I get mad because you think being a quad makes you a bad parent, and I’m a self-righteous bitch?”

“Just stop,” Dean muttered. “Drop it.”

Aidan almost wished he had legs so he could stomp. “You read some fucking article about how you’re a shit parent because you’re a quad and you believed it and _I’m_ the bad guy?”

“Stop making me feel like shit for feeling like shit,” Dean growled. “You know what might have worked? Supporting me, talking to me reasonably about why it’s ridiculous to feel like I might be a bad parent. You didn’t do that, you just thought getting pissed at me would work. Great job at the marriage.”

“Look who’s self-righteous now,” Aidan muttered. “I’m not dealing with your bullshit. I’ll get you on the bed and I’m going to the fucking couch.”

“Fine,” Dean hissed, pointedly turning away from Aidan as soon as he was on the bed and not saying a word as the younger man left the room, closing the door with a quiet but clearly angry snap. Still seething, the New Zealander shifted around, trying to get comfortable.

In the living room, Aidan got himself onto the couch and yanked the throw that was on the back of it over his body. He into a fitful sleep, anger making it impossible to truly rest.

He woke up just a few hours later in a dark apartment. It took him a couple moments to figure out why he was awake, but he got into his chair as soon as he realized he had heard a thump from the bedroom. “Christ,” he gasped as he went into the bedroom. “Are you okay?” he asked, sliding out of his chair and onto the ground to look over his husband. “What happened?”

“Thought I could get into my chair,” Dean replied in a strained voice. “Didn’t work.”

“Why didn’t you call for me? Or text me?” Aidan asked, and then huffed out a bit of a laugh at Dean’s expression. “Okay, yeah. You still should’ve, but I get it. Why were you getting up?”

Dean sighed. “Turns out that while we’re yelling at each other, we don’t think about things like emptying a cath bag,” he explained, looking up at the bed with a distasteful expression. “Our bed is not a pleasant place right now.”

“I should’ve thought of that,” Aidan said, and then sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. You were vulnerable and felt bad and I made it worse,” he whispered, kissing Dean’s head. “I’m going to check as well as I can for injuries, okay?”

The New Zealander nodded, letting his husband carefully look over his body and palpate various area he was worried about. “Verdict?” he asked.

“You’ve got a couple nasty bruises,” Aidan answered, “but looks like that’s it. Go into the team doctor tomorrow, though,” he added, putting his left arm under Dean’s shoulders and lifting him up into a sitting position.

“I’m sorry about that shit too,” Dean said softly, grunting a bit as Aidan moved him around. “I wasn’t exactly nice, either.” He let his head loll to the side to rest on the Irishman’s shoulder. “I feel like hell and I smell like pee,” he groaned. “Great combination, right?”

Aidan pressed a kiss to the older man’s ear. “I can help with the smell,” he offered. “Give me a sec to get a cloth, okay?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i came back & ANGST sry abt that


	51. Difficulties at Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: bodily functions mentioned, tho not described or anything
> 
> also im getting classified 4 rowing b4 my race on saturday! im v pumped

“Those bruises look even worse now,” Aidan said in concern as he helped Dean from the bed to his chair a few hours later. “You didn’t hit your head on anything, did you?” he asked, beginning to worry that he had missed a concussion. As a wheelchair rugby player, he knew how dangerous concussions could be; they were a big enough risk on the court that every single player had learned all about how to detect them and what to do.

Dean thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I tucked my head like when I’ve flipped my racing chair,” he explained. “Hey,” he added as Aidan started to turn away. “I’m sorry about last night. I…” He paused. “I didn’t react very well.”

“Like I was any better?” Aidan asked with a snort. “I pretty much yelled at you for feeling bad about yourself. I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t a perfect father for Paddy, but being a dick about it didn’t help.” He leaned over and kissed his husband’s temple. “In a few months, if you still think Paddy needs PT, he can do it,” he promised.

“Thanks,” Dean said quietly. “I’ll check my head with the team doctor today, just to be sure I’m okay,” he added, seeing that Aidan still looked a little worried.

“And all your bones,” Aidan told him. “A few of my paralyzed friends have broken bones and not noticed for a couple days.” He kissed Dean’s temple again before sliding across the bed to get into his own wheelchair. “I’m going to put some coffee on. Be back in a sec.”

As was their routine, Dean pulled clothes out of the drawers as Aidan started coffee and waited for the younger man to come back and help him get dressed. By the time he had managed to open the drawers, pull out a t-shirt, briefs, and shorts, and close the drawers, Aidan had come back into the bedroom, yawning.

“I’ve put in enough for four cups,” Aidan informed his husband. “If you want more than one, that’s fine, but if you don’t, I’m taking some to work.”

“I’ll probably only need one,” Dean answered, working with Aidan to get his underwear and pajamas pants off and his clean briefs and running shorts on. “Is Paddy still doing well in daycare?” he asked, knowing that the brunet got the scoop from the daycare employees daily.

Aidan snorted. “Okay, I know this is bad, but it’s kind of funny. He keeps pulling on other kids’ legs because he’s trying to take off their prosthetics,” he said with a smile as he pulled Dean’s arm through the sleeves of his t-shirt. “He thinks everyone’s legs are plastic.”

“I’m more worried he wants to steal other kids’ prosthetics than the fact he thinks everyone has them,” Dean replied, smiling. “I think it says a lot about us that our kid thinks everyone is disabled,” he added. “Okay, coffee,” he mumbled once he was completely dressed. “Then I’ll get Paddy up and dressed so you can get ready for work,” he promised, heading toward the kitchen with Aidan following behind him. “Can you pour me a cup?” he asked. “I’ll grab you some breakfast.” He reached into the freezer and pulled out a pack of two sausage and egg English muffins, quickly putting it in the microwave, yawning. “Any idea what you’re gonna do at work today?”

Aidan poured two mugs of coffee, handing one to Dean before adding flavored creamer to his own. “I’ve got a new client today. Big business that needs their accounts done. Apparently their last accountant was shit,” he explained.

Dean was going to reply, but then heard a small voice from the nursery. “Dada?”

“Coming, bud,” the New Zealander called out, putting his coffee cup on the counter before heading into the nursery. “Morning, Paddy,” he said warmly, lifting his son out of his crib. “Do you want your legs right now, or later?”

“Leh!” Patrick yelled excitedly, wrapping an arm around Dean’s neck to hold on as he was carried to the changing table, where Dean changed his diaper, got his legs onto his thighs, and put on a onesie.

“There’s my bug!” Aidan cooed happily, smiling as Patrick reached for him and climbed into his lap once Dean was close enough. “Let’s get you some Cheerios so you aren’t hungry at daycare,” he suggested, grabbing the cereal box and pouring some onto his son’s highchair tray before sticking the little boy into it. “I’ll get you some juice,” he added, grabbing a sippy cup and filling it with apple juice. “Having a kid made me a lot better at forcing myself to wake up quickly,” he commented, handing Paddy his sippy cup before chugging down his coffee and pouring himself a second cup.

“Da seems really tired, doesn’t he?” Dean asked Patrick, pulling the sausage and egg muffins out of the microwave and handing one to his husband before eating his in a few quick bites. “That’s okay, we’re all sleepy in the morning sometimes.”

Patrick just mumbled happily as he shoved Cheerios into his mouth.

* * *

“You look a bit like hell,” William said as he and Dean got in their racing chairs, William alone and Dean with assistance from Tim. “Rough night?”

Dean groaned. “Fight with the husband, fell out of bed, and my cath came off when I fell so I ended up with a bed covered in pee, because I somehow went to bed with a full cath bag because I make bad life choices.”

“Jesus,” William said as he followed Dean out onto the track. “Sounds a bit like hell. You fine after falling?” he asked in concern.

“I need to check with the team physician by the end of the day or Aidan and I are going to fight again,” Dean admitted. “I don’t think I fucked anything up, but it’s hard to know when you can’t feel most of your body.”

William didn’t have any idea about that. As an amputee with no legs and only one ass cheek, he knew a fair amount about struggles with prostheses, wheelchairs, and ableism, but not about sensation problems. “Be careful, man. I saw an episode of _House_ where someone nearly died from a broken bone because… I think there was bone marrow leaking or something. Look, it was bad.”

“That was really specific,” Dean said drily. “Do you know when Keisha is going to get in?” he asked, referring to their team doctor. “I should probably check on my bones or whatever sooner rather than later.”

Tim tapped Dean’s shoulder. “She’s supposed to come in at nine, so she should be here by now,” he said as he checked his watch. “Want me to grab her and bring her over?” When Dean nodded, the other man jogged off to find the team doctor.

Thirty minutes later, Dean was happy to learn that he didn’t have any broken bones, but he did get a stern lecture from Keisha about being more careful, thanks to how bad his bruises were. He rolled out onto the track with achy arms only to find out that they were working on distance inside that day. He got into his wheelchair, headed inside, and got Tim’s help putting his earbuds in so that he could run to the beat once he got set up on the roller. He may have been on the wheelchair equivalent of a treadmill, but at least he was outside.

 _I hurt like hell from falling last nite but no broken bones_ , Dean texted Aidan during a break after ten miles.

He had a response just a minute later. _Good. About the bones, not about the hurting._

_Im gonna b home early 2nite I think. Want me 2 order dinner? Or try 2 make something?_

_Try to make something? Because you do that so much?_

_Fuck off,_ Dean replied with a couple laughing emojis.

“Back to work,” Peter said, appearing by Dean’s shoulder. “Stop texting your man and do a few more miles, and you can go home and recover from those bruises,” he added, smiling when Dean started to run again. “Good. Keep it up, I want to see you do a marathon.”

Dean groaned. “I’ve told Tatyana McFadden, Josh George, Kurt Fearnley and basically every other marathoner that I’m not gonna do one,” he complained, but he kept going, shooting for another five miles.

He was sweating profusely by the time he finished, and he felt like his arms were falling off as he headed into the locker rooms with Tim. “Remind me never to fight with my husband so much that he sleeps on the couch, because just ends in bruises for me,” he muttered as the other man turned the water on.

“I don’t want to be rude, but how did you manage to roll enough to fall off the bed?”

“Fuck knows,” Dean groaned. “And I can’t even imagine how I forgot empty my cath bag before sleeping. It’s gross as hell.”

Tim snorted. “No shit,” he said, rolling his eyes. “My wife has fallen asleep from jet lag with her indwelling cath in, but she always remembers to empty it and take it out before actually going to bed.”

“Your wife has her shit together more than I do,” Dean pointed out. He sighed as Tim took in his bruises with a wince. “Yeah, you try falling out of bed when you can’t catch yourself,” he muttered.

The nice thing about using his power chair and living on the training center campus was that Dean didn’t need to get a ride home, and instead just put his chair into second gear and got home in fifteen minutes. He pulled Netflix up on the TV and put on _Daredevil_ , switching the language to English with audio description so that he could just listen without looking up at the TV while starting to scrub the sink and kitchen counter.

He ate a quick lunch around noon before putting on an action movie, tilting his chair far enough back that he was practically lying down. He fell asleep halfway through the movie, and didn’t wake up until someone shook his shoulder. “Hm?” he mumbled as he opened his eyes.

“Hey,” Aidan said softly, looking down at his husband as Patrick reached out from his lap. He deposited their son into Dean’s lap, where he excitedly reached for the power chair’s joystick, only being stopped by his younger father’s quick reflexes. “You take a nap after practice?”

Dean stretched a little and pulled Patrick closer so that he couldn’t hit any buttons. “Yeah. My coach had me come home early, so I fell asleep after lunch,” he explained. “You okay?” he added a few seconds later, noticing the Irishman’s downcast expression.

Aidan sighed quietly. “My supervisor came into my office this morning and had me put away all our family photos before my new client came in,” he said. “Apparently, this guy isn’t into gay people, and we want him as a client because he’s going to give us a lot of business and money, but…” He chewed his lip. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”

“That’s bull—“ Dean stopped himself before he swore in front of his verbal son. “I can understand if they don’t want a rainbow flag on your wall, because that’s not really professional anyway, but hiding photos of your family?”

“Yeah. And you know that photo that’s just of Patrick?”

“No. They didn’t.” Dean was pretty sure that his blood pressure was rising as he felt anger boiling in his chest.”

Aidan’s jaw was clenched. “Yep. Hiding my Asian son,” he said in a tense voice. “I don't know what to do. If I protest or refuse, I’ll be taken off the contract and I don’t know if we’re getting another any time soon, which means not getting paid. We have a kid, and he loves wearing his legs so we need to keep buying prosthetics, and we can’t afford that if I’m not getting the salary I’ve been getting.”

“Can you talk to your boss about feeling uncomfortable with it?” Dean asked. “I mean, understatement of the year, but it could be a start.” He reached a hand over to stroke his husband’s hair as gently as he could, even though he knew it wasn’t enough comfort for such an awful thing. He couldn’t believe that bullshit going on in Aidan’s office. “Paddy, do you want to play on the floor with Da?” he asked, knowing that their son would cheer the younger man up at least a little.

“Da!” Patrick crowed excitedly, looking over at Aidan with a huge smile and reaching for him. Aidan couldn’t help but grin back at him, and he lifted the little boy out of Dean’s lap and putting him on the floor before sliding out of his chair to join him.

“Are we going to build a tower?” the Irishman asked, pulling a box of wooden blocks over to where he and Patrick sat. He watched fondly as the small boy immediately reached into the box and started putting blocks on top of each other. “Good job!” he said happily when Patrick looked at him, pointing to his three-block high tower. “You’re Da’s smart boy, aren’t you?”

Patrick smiled widely. “Me!” he said, pointing to himself.

“Yes, you!” Aidan replied, reaching out with his hand to tickle Patrick’s stomach, able to forget his work-related problems a little as his son giggled and wiggled around on the floor. “Are you hungry?”

“Hungee,” Patrick answered, looking hopeful.

Dean tilted his wheelchair back to a regular sitting position, smiling. “Why don’t you guys keep playing and I’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks,” Aidan said gratefully. “Just give a shout if you need help getting something off the stove,” he added. “Let’s keep playing, bug,” he said as Patrick looked a bit confused as his older father left the living room. “Do you want your cars or your doll?” he asked. He knew they were very stereotypical gay parents by giving their son toys associated with girls and boys and allowing him to choose, but he thought it was important. His feelings about that were solidified as Patrick reached for his plush doll, which Aidan had ordered online to find one with Asian skin tones, and hugged it close.

Babbling nonsense, Patrick handed his Irish father the doll. Knowing this game, Aidan hugged the doll and handed it back to his son, who hugged it again. The boy then moved the doll across the floor like it was walking.

“He loves that doll, doesn’t he?” Dean said, watching from the kitchen as he got a pot of water on the stove for pasta. “What sort of sauce do you want? We can do tomato, alfredo with broccoli, or sautéed mushrooms and garlic.”

Aidan thought for a minute before answering, “Mushrooms and garlic sounds great, babe. Thanks,” he added. “You like mushrooms, don’t you, Paddy?” he asked his son, turning his attention back to the little boy.

The time passed pretty quickly as Aidan played with their son and Dean cooked. Soon, the older man called over to his husband for help getting the pot off the stove. With his lack of coordination and lack of sensation, getting things off the stove was a dangerous task, and he got Aidan to do it whenever he could. He switched places with the younger man so that he could supervise Patrick while Aidan did everything in the kitchen.

“Ready, guys,” Aidan called out after a couple minutes, bringing a bowl of pasta and a jar of baby food to the table. “I’ll lift Patrick for you,” he added, putting the food on the table and heading into the living room to sweep their son up and deposit him in his high chair. “Thanks for cooking, Deano,” he told his husband, giving him a kiss. “You don’t cook much, but you aren’t half-bad at it.”

“Such high praise,” Dean said drily, a smile on his face. “Paddy, do you want to try some of Daddy’s pasta and mushrooms?” he asked, spooning a small portion onto the small boy’s plate and mashing it up a bit with his fork.

Throughout dinner, Dean could tell that Aidan was still down from his work situation. Attempts at comfort would be empty, so he didn’t say anything, and instead offered up little smiles and distracting conversation. After Patrick was in bed, though, Dean brought out a screw-top bottle of red wine and two plastic cups.

“I want you to get emotional to me,” the New Zealander said firmly, handing the bottle to Aidan so that the younger man could open it. “Your boss is being a dick, and you should be able to complain about it and swear. Patrick is in bed, and you can say whatever you need to say that you don’t want him to hear.”

Aidan sighed heavily as he poured two cups of wine, putting a straw into Dean’s. “My boss is fine with me normally, but as soon as someone else doesn’t want to be around gay people, he just goes along with it.” He took a long sip of wine. “What the fuck? And the picture of Patrick?” He drank a gulp down. “That’s racist as shit.”

“It is,” Dean agreed, sipping his wine more slowly than the brunet. “It’s bad enough to ask you to hide pictures with your husband, but to hide pictures with Patrick is just to hide that you have an Asian kid.”

“Fuck,” Aidan said succinctly, pouring another glass of wine. “I promise I won’t drink my feelings,” he added when he saw Dean looking a bit concerned. “I wasn’t asked to hide being gay when I was on the Paralympic team of one of the most Catholic nations on the planet. I was never told when I took this job that I’d have to pretend not to have a family because of minority shit. Now I’m supposed to choose between principles about family and keeping this client and getting paid? That's a fucking impossible choice.” He scrubbed at his face. “I hate this.”

Dean nodded understandingly. “Have you told your boss any of this?” he asked.

“I asked why I had to move the pictures and was clearly uncomfortable when he said why, but I haven’t worked there long enough to say shit,” Aidan answered, hitting the stump of his right arm against his wheel in frustration. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. They’re ashamed of me but we can’t afford for me not to get paid.”

“Fucking sucks,” Dean agreed. “At least try to fight for your photo of Patrick. You might not be able to win about pictures with me, and that’s bullshit, but they have no right to make you hide your son. He’s Korean-British, big fucking deal. He’s your kid. If everyone else gets to show their kids, you should too.”

Aidan sighed, rubbing at his face again as he took another sip of wine. “It might be ableism too. It’s him standing up, and you can see his prosthetics. This is fucking horrible. Are they scared this guy is gonna ask if I’m married? I can just say yeah and leave it at that. I don’t scream about being gay all the time. I hate hiding, but maybe I should pick my battles.”

“I’m so sorry about this shit,” Dean said softly, putting his wine cup to lean over carefully and rest his head on Aidan’s shoulder. “It’s not okay, and you have every right to yell or cry about it or whatever else you need to do.”

After finishing off his second cup of wine, Aidan leaned his head on top of his husband’s. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Let’s just go to bed.”

Dean nodded, putting the wine back in the kitchen once Aidan had screwed the top back on and rinsing out the cups. He headed to the bedroom, finding the younger man picking through their drawers for pajamas for both of them, still looking pretty upset. “Hey,” he said quietly, waiting until Aidan looked up to continue. “No matter what you do, fight about it or do what they say to keep the job, you are a good person, a good husband, and a good dad.”

“How can I be any of those if I let them move those pictures?” Aidan asked miserably, putting their pajamas onto the bed and fiddling with them to avoid eye contact.

“Because every night, you come home to me and Patrick,” Dean said firmly. “You come home to that little boy and make him happy every single day. You support me and care about me and love the hell out of me, even when I’m a mess. If keeping this client is something you need to do, you do it, and you are just a perfect for me and Patrick as if you fight against this.”

Looking up, Aidan gave his husband a weak smile. “I feel like shit about this whole thing. They shouldn’t have put me in this position, but…” He looked down again. “I think I’m going to ask to have a picture of Patrick still up, at least one of his face, but I don’t want to risk my job over this.”

“And that’s okay,” Dean said, using his right hand to tilt Aidan’s face up and kiss his lips. “Let’s get ready to go to bed, yeah?”

Aidan nodded. “Come on to the bathroom,” he said, letting Dean go in first and turn his bulky power chair around before following him in. “You need to pee before I empty the cath bag?” he asked, pulling the older man’s pant leg up. “Scratch that, don’t pee right now because the bag is pretty full.”

“I was home alone all day without anybody to help me empty it,” Dean explained, sitting still so that Aidan could take the bag off and empty it into the toilet before putting it back on. “Go ahead and brush your teeth, babe,” he added as he began to press on his bladder. Peeing with a spastic bladder could be a long process if he didn’t use a regular catheter rather than a condom cath, and he didn’t have anywhere near the coordination to do that.

Aidan washed his hands and brushed his teeth, then emptied Dean’s cath bag again and helped him to do his routine as well. “Bowel program tonight?” he asked, smirking when his husband’s expression soured. “Suck it up, babe,” he said, kissing the older man’s cheek.

“Easy to say when you can take a shit by yourself,” Dean muttered, but resigned himself to the frustrating and frankly embarrassing process of his bowel program. While he was comfortable sharing most things, bodily functions included, with Aidan, this was not one of them.

The brunet helped with clinical efficiency. He had tried talking normally to his husband while doing this, but had quickly discovered that Dean hated that. “Almost done,” he said, snapping off the rubber glove and reaching for toilet paper. As was their routine, he didn’t make eye contact with Dean. He personally thought that was a bit ridiculous, but he respected the older man’s discomfort. “Okay,” he said, helping Dean back into his chair before washing his hands. “Swear to God, if you apologize one more time, I won’t talk to you for a week,” he threatened lightly when he saw his husband’s mouth open. It was the one piece of internalized ableism that had stayed with Dean over the years, and he hated that his husband felt the need to apologize for needing help in the bathroom.

“I know, I know,” Dean said, having heard that many times and still had to consciously try to keep himself from reflexively apologizing. “I’m working on it.” He washed his hands once Aidan had moved away from it. Back in the bedroom, they got in their pajamas as quickly as they could and crawled into bed, turning the light off immediately. “I’m sorry your day sucked,” Dean said, pulling Aidan a little closer and kissing him.

“At least you make it better,” Aidan replied, returning the kiss and throwing an arm over the blond. “How do your bruises feel?”

“Fine,” Dean answered, more interested in deepening kisses with his husband than in discussing his bruises from the previous night. He firmly believed that he could kiss away all of the younger man’s troubles, at least until morning, and he pressed his left hand in the small of Aidan’s back.

Aidan smiled against Dean’s mouth. “Why Mr. O’Gorman, are you seducing me?” he asked, sliding his right arm up the Kiwi’s side to hold Dean’s head close to his with his stump.

“Trying,” Dean answered, kissing the younger man deeply. He liked that he could spend half an hour or more just making out with Aidan sometimes, and it was still great, despite being together for more than three years. “I love you, but I’m about to pass out,” he said, pulling away after a little while.

“Same,” Aidan admitted, pressing another kiss to Dean’s lips before rolling onto his back to get comfortable. He was asleep nearly immediately, snoring softly.


	52. y'all i'm getting bad at chapter names

“Can I talk to you, Mr. Keene?” Aidan asked quietly at work the next day, and followed his boss into the office when the other man asked him to. “I will take the pictures with my husband off my desk if this client is homophobic, but not my son. He’s my kid.”

“I know, Aidan, but if you look at that picture, you can tell immediately he’s adopted.”

“Straight people adopt,” Aidan protested, trying not to show the anger he felt. “And if he assumes I’m straight, he might think Patrick’s mother is Asian. We’re going to be talking business. If he says anything, it’ll probably just be ‘is that your kid? He’s cute,’ or something like that. It won’t be a huge question.”

Mr. Keene sighed. “I understand where you’re coming from Aidan…”

“With respect, sir, you don’t,” Aidan said, holding his ground. “You don’t have to put away pictures of your family when a certain type of client comes in. You don’t have to worry about someone saying racist things about your son, or commenting on whether or not you can parents with your disability. All I want is to keep a picture of Patrick out in my office. It’s a compromise; I won’t have pictures of me and Dean up, just Patrick or me and Patrick.”

“How about if they’re facing in towards you, not out towards people who come into your office?”

That was not what Aidan wanted, like his son was some sort of shameful secret, but he knew that it was going to be the only way he could keep a picture of Paddy up in his office. “Yes, sir. Thank you for your time. I’ve got some work to get back to now,” he said, giving the other man a strained smile and a nod before turning around and leaving his office. _He oh so generously said I can keep pictures of just Patrick or me and Patrick up if they don’t face the client_ , he texted Dean, getting a red angry-face emoji in return

 _At least u get smthg & keep ur job,_ came the second reply. It was clearly the nicest thing Dean could say, and Aidan privately agreed.

 _Gotta work but I’ll text you later,_ Aidan sent before hitting the space bar to wake his computer up so that he could open up the accounting program and work again. He looked fondly at his pictures before putting the majority of them in a desk drawer with a clenched jaw. Shaking off the feeling, he turned to his computer and began to run various calculations.

*

“Aidan’s got some homophobic bullshit at work,” Dean told Manu as the other man stood next to him, stretching. “His boss made him take the pictures of us off his desk and he wants the pictures of Patrick turned away from where some dick client can’t see them. Because how will they cope if they see Aidan has an Asian son?” he asked mockingly.

Manu groaned. “Oh, homophobic _and_ racist. What a winning combination.” He sat down to pull off his regular leg and switched to the running one. “If you need a good mixed-race role model for the kid, give me a call,” he added before clapping Dean on the shoulder and jogging off.

Dean was definitely considering it, because if Patrick ever heard that his Da had to hide pictures of him at work, he would definitely end up with more than a little internalized racism. Anyway, with two white parents, Patrick would definitely need a good role model. He knew that Manu wasn’t super connected with Maori culture, but that might actually be good for relating to a Korean-Brit (or would he count as Korean-Kiwi since he moved so young?) without any Korean relatives.

Feeling some pressure now, Dean decided that he would have a conversation with Patrick about why he looked different from his parents that night. He knew that his son was probably too young to get any of it, but it was never too early to try. Besides, it was very important for his son to understand that he was loved and perfect the way he was, because he had just gotten a taste of how people might treat him later.

“You okay?” William asked as he rolled up next to his teammate.

“I just need to run,” Dean answered, not wanting to describe what was wrong again, and he pulled up to the starting line and, with a nod from Peter, began a warm-up lap. He wouldn’t be running all day, because they had lifting that afternoon, but he could let running soothe him.

By the time lunch came around, Dean was feeling a little better, and he sat next to Jed in the training center cafeteria that was closest to their track. “You look exhausted,” he told his friend.

“My kid had a sleepover,” Jed said. “Turns out ten-year-old boys are loud as hell.”

Dean laughed softly. “Not looking forward to that,” he admitted. “You need to get some earplugs, mate.” They ate in silence for a few minutes before Dean realized he could use some advice. “Any idea how to talk to an infant about having different color skin?”

“Nope,” Jed answered honestly. “My kid is white, so I’ve never had to. You love Patrick, though, and you’ve been really open about things. He’s probably too young to really understand it, but it’s good to start this early. You can just tell him this stuff consistently for the next few years and it will never be something that’s secret or something to be ashamed of.”

“Thanks,” Dean said, and then changed the subject to a more lighthearted, albeit louder and more passionate, discussion of able-bodied rugby.

*

“Paddy, you and Daddy are going to have a talk, man-to-man,” Dean told his son that night, the infant plopped in his lap and looking up at him. “You’re going to notice soon that you look different from me and Da and a lot of people here. That’s because you’re Asian, and Da and I are white, and so are a lot of New Zealanders. Your mom—the one who carried you and then let us have you when she knew she couldn’t take care of you to be the perfect little man you are—she’s from Britain, but her parents were from a place called Korea. Remember our special picture book about Korea?” he asked.

“Re-uh,” Patrick echoed. Because he loved that little picture book so much, he had learned to ask for it.

Dean smiled. “Yeah, Korea. That’s why you look different!” he said cheerfully. “When you were tiny-tiny-tiny, even before you were born, a cord itself around your legs. I know! You had legs at some point! How weird is that?” He knew this made no sense to Patrick, but it was never going to be a secret. “The cord made it so blood couldn’t go to your legs, so they just kinda fell off. That’s different from Da. He was born with legs and they came off later.”

“Babe,” Aidan said from behind him. “I think that’s an information overload for a kid that tiny. Paddy, what’s important is that you’re our little guy, even if you don’t look exactly like us, and you can’t let anybody ever tell you you’re wrong. Got it?” he asked, reaching down to pinch Patrick’s pudgy cheek. “Do you want to play now? Instead of getting good talks from Daddy that go on forever?” he added, winking at his husband.

Recognizing the word “play” and knowing that his older father couldn’t lift him on and off his lap, Patrick reached for Aidan. Once on the floor, he stood up and toddled over to his toy box, pulling out a few blocks and a stuffed cat toy.

“I got a little preachy,” Dean admitted to his husband.

“Yeah,” Aidan agreed, kissing Dean’s nose. “It was all good stuff, though.” He watched Patrick for a few minutes before asking his husband, “What do you want for dinner? Salad with some leftover beef or chicken with sautéed kale?”

Dean thought for a moment. “Kale sounds really good. If you’re too tired to make the chicken, we can do a kale salad with some sliced beef.”

“You’re smart. That’s why I married you,” Aidan said fondly, heading off into the kitchen. He began to throw together a salad, listening to Patrick chirruping the words he knew and Dean responding like these random, mispronounced words were the most interesting things he had ever heard. Patrick had learned words from his parents and his picture books, but had yet to reach the stage of making complete sentences. Aidan heard various of the little boy’s favorite words being repeated in an excited voice: legs, Re-uh, yum, and, most excitedly, “me!” which was said while pointing at himself with a huge grin.

“Yep, you,” Dean replied, pointing right back at Patrick and smiling widely. “Who’s the smartest little guy I know? Who’s the most beautiful boy in the world?”

Patrick looked a bit confused. “Dada?”

The New Zealander couldn’t help but laugh. “I meant you, but thanks, buddy,” he said, and looked over toward Aidan. “Guess who’s more beautiful than you?” he crowed.

“Just watch, I’ll be the favorite in a few years,” Aidan teased back. “I’m almost done with the salad.”

“Paddy, can you walk to the kitchen with Daddy?” Dean asked, smiling when Patrick obediently put his hand on the part of his older father’s wheelchair that he had learned to hold onto and walked over to the table as Dean drove over slowly. “Good, now wait for Da to put you in your chair,” he instructed. The little boy did so, though he wiggled impatiently the whole time, and soon the family was sitting comfortably around the table eating dinner.

Aidan sat back and let Dean talk to Patrick about Korea, using information from his picture book and some of the things that his mother had given them before he was born. He could tell that the incident with his boss had struck a painful chord with the blond, and, even if the older man was going a bit overboard, he wasn’t going to stop him from talking so much about Patrick’s biological heritage and enforcing, albeit heavy-handedly, positive messages.

“I think it’s almost bedtime,” Aidan said after a while, seeing Patrick yawn. “Want to give him a bath or should I?” he asked his husband.

“You can do it,” Dean replied. “I’ll deal with the dishes and stuff. Okay, Paddy, kiss goodnight!” he said cheerfully, giving Patrick’s cheek a kiss when Aidan lifted the little boy close.

Half an hour later, Aidan headed into the bedroom to find Dean tilted back in his wheelchair, reading on his Kindle. “Hey,” the Irishman said, pushing himself up to stand on his stumps and kiss his husband sweetly. “Paddy’s asleep. He was so tired he almost fell asleep in the bath.”

Dean laughed a little. “I guess my speeches about self-acceptance and race exhausted him,” he said. “Do you want to watch a movie or just read?” he asked, clicking a button to put his Kindle to sleep.

“I was more thinking I’d get in bed with you,” Aidan replied, smiling. “It’s been a week or so since we’ve managed that, but Patrick went to bed so easily, and we’re both awake…”

“Parenting is so ridiculous,” Dean said with a wry smile, shaking his head. “Remember when we used to be sexy about sex? We wouldn’t say things like ‘this is probably our best chance to fuck for the next week’ or imply it, like you just did.” He turned his head to kiss Aidan. “I’d definitely like it. I don’t know what my body’s like tonight, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get off with each other.”

Giving Dean another kiss, Aidan shrugged. “Always doing anal is overrated anyway. The best thing about crip life is how inventive we have to be in bed. We have way more fun than abled people do.” He pulled off his own shirt before starting on Dean’s. “How inventive do you think we can get tonight?” he asked as he pulled the soft fabric over Dean’s head.

“Very,” the New Zealander answered, smiling as his face was revealed again. “I seem to remember you always liking it in the chair in Rio, and this one tilts…” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Think the tilt is going to make it better?” Aidan asked, looking extremely interested when Dean just shrugged. “I’m always willing to try. Think you can do penetration tonight?”

After thinking for a moment, Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. My body’s been really weird lately. Try getting me hard and see what happens.”

“I’m thinking we should be naked for this,” Aidan suggested, yanking his pants and underwear off and throwing them into the laundry basket before starting on the much more complicated and involved process of figuring out Dean’s. Though the older man had dressed in track pants post-shower after practice, it still wasn’t easy to get his pants off, especially when he was staying in his chair. “Push up,” Aidan instructed, trying to pull his husband’s pants down as quickly as he could once Dean pushed on his armrests, lifting his body a couple inches.

“Can I sit yet?” Dean asked. His shoulders were still tired from practice, and he didn’t want to strain them anymore than necessary.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered after a second. “Sorry it took a while,” he added, and then laughed. “This might have gone better if I had remembered to take your shoes off first.” He dealt with the shoes and then pulled Dean’s pants and briefs all the way off. “There we go.” He paused. “We aren’t so good at sexy stripteases, are we?”

“At least we’re good at the actual sex part,” Dean replied cheerfully. “Might want to take the cath off before we start,” he added when Aidan looked like he was going to crawl right on top of him.

The younger man laughed. “I probably would’ve noticed that eventually,” he said, taking the condom attachment off before removing the bag from Dean’s ankle and heading into the bathroom. After dumping everything and washing his hands, he went back into the bedroom, smiling at his husband.

Once the Irishman got close, Dean motioned for Aidan to get in his lap. While his erections were almost completely based on physical stimulation, he still wanted to kiss his husband and get aroused. He knew that it would make it a weird angle for Aidan to jerk him off, but the younger man had experience with it.

Aidan pulled himself into Dean’s chair, flopping down onto the older man a little, unused to transferring into the Kiwi’s lap when his chair was tilted. “We clearly need to have sex more, because I’m not doing too well right now,” he informed Dean with a grin, reaching down to wrap his hand around the other man’s flaccid cock and pull on it. He wasn’t gentle or even very careful, because Dean needed a fair amount of stimulation to get hard. “I could chain together orgasms from these shoulders,” he muttered, and he felt his husband laughing underneath him. “Shut up, they’re hot.”

“Instead of saying ridiculous things, you might put your mouth to better use,” Dean suggested with a cheeky grin, letting out a deep sigh when Aidan began to nip at his neck. “That's definitely a better use,” he groaned softly, tilting his head to give the Irishman better access.

Aidan continued to jerk Dean and suck at his neck, but after a couple minutes, he pulled back. “Nothing’s happening down there,” he informed his husband with a shrug. “What do you want to do instead?”

“Nipples, I guess,” Dean replied. There weren’t many options for sex without an erection in their current position, and it was clear that Aidan was excited about the position. “I don’t have to have my dick hard,” he added. “I love giving you whatever you want.”

Aidan stared for a moment. “You don’t want an orgasm?” he asked.

The blond huffed a laugh through his nose. “I guess being coy isn’t working. Dildo, babe. I can fuck you with a dildo while you pinch my nipples or use a vibe on them or something.”

“Oh,” Aidan said, briefly speechless. “That’s… that’s a good idea.” He give Dean a lingering kiss before getting into his own wheelchair and heading to the closet to dig out their small box of toys. It was a little buried, due to disuse, but he pulled it out and found his second-favorite dildo. His favorite, the glass one that one of his teammates had gotten him for his wedding (and, yes, he knew that was weird), wasn’t easy for Dean to grip, and though there was no way it would happen, the older man was terrified of breaking it in Aidan’s ass. The dildo he pulled out was nubby and curved and, most excitingly, had a harness. They hadn’t really used the harness, but it was perfect for this moment. He grabbed a bullet vibrator as well and went back to Dean.

“Logic problem,” the New Zealander said, raising his hand. “If you harness that thing on my crotch, you’re going to squish my dick.”

Aidan winced at the thought. “Balls,” he muttered. “Would it be weird to strap it on your thigh or something?”

“Sounds fine to me,” Dean answered. “We don’t have ‘normal’ sex anyway, so fuck it, put a dildo on my thigh.” He lazed back in his chair as Aidan figured out the straps. He was relaxed, definitely not aroused like his husband clearly was, but he didn’t mind. Once the younger man was back in his lap, he would definitely get worked up again.

Despite not looking up past Dean’s thigh, Aidan could tell his husband wasn’t as turned on as he was, so as soon as he had gotten the dildo stable on the older man’s thigh—and what a weird sentence that was to think—he crawled up and bit on right side of Dean’s chest. He grinned when the blond gasped, and he licked over the bite before moving up to Dean’s lips and kissing him deeply, his hand coming up to pinch up the now-stiff nipple.

“What do you want from me, babe?” Dean asked after a few minutes of making out. “You aren’t getting anything yet.”

“Yeah, no, kissing the hottest man in the world isn’t doing anything for me,” Aidan said, rolling his eyes. “Mind if I take my hand off to open myself up?” he asked, snapping a glove on when Dean nodded. They had learned from experience that it was cleaner for both of them if he used a glove to finger himself, since he was going to put his hand on Dean’s chest right after. He picked up the bottle of lubricant, opened it, and held it between his stump and his side. A bit more than he wanted spilled out and onto his husband’s thigh. “Oops,” he said with a grin. That happened relatively often, because controlling something as thin as lube without a hand was fucking hard. He pressed a finger into himself slowly, sighing softly into Dean’s chest.

“Feel good?” Dean asked, kissing the top of Aidan’s head.

The Irishman snorted. “You already know it does,” he answered.

“That was a hint for a bit of description,” the blond said with a smirk, gently butting his head against his husband’s. “I can’t feel anything right now—which is fine!” he added quickly, knowing that Aidan might take that as a hint to start moving, which wasn’t necessary. “I want some dirty talk.”

Catching on, albeit a little late, Aidan looked up at Dean, arranging his face into a rather desperate expression. He knew how to push all of his husband’s buttons, and delighted in doing so. “It feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly against Dean’s neck. “After a week, even just a finger feels a bit big. I like big though,” he added with a bit of a laugh. “You already know that.”

Chuckling, Dean replied, “Yeah, I know. You probably just married me for my cock.”

“Well, it definitely helped,” Aidan teased, groaning as he pressed a second finger into himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking tight,” he breathed into his husband’s ear, tongue snaking out to lick just behind it.

“Man, I wish I was hard tonight,” Dean said wistfully, rubbing his knuckles over the base of Aidan’s scalp. “I can’t wait to watch you get off, though. You get so intense when you’re barely stretched enough.”

“Mm, if it turns you on, I’d better do it,” Aidan murmured, pushing a third finger inside himself. It took a bit more force than the previous two had, but it was definitely worth it, not just for the stretch but also for the way Dean’s breath stuttered for a moment before picking up at a faster, shallower rate. “You want to see me ride this, don’t you?” he breathed.

Dean groaned softly. “Of course I fucking do,” he replied. “I want that vibrator too.” He chewed a little at his lip to control his noises as Aidan stripped off his glove and tossed it on the floor before picking up the vibrator.

“One sec,” the Irishman said, dropping the vibrator in their laps so that he could reach down and position the dildo to sink down on it, making a high-pitched noise in the back of his throat as he did so. “Fuck,” he ground out, letting go of the dildo so that he could pick up the bullet vibrator, turn it on, and pressed it to Dean’s chest.

As soon as the vibrator touched his nipple, Dean shuddered and gasped, his right hand grabbing Aidan’s left arm and squeezing tightly. “God, babe,” he hissed, tilting his head back until it hit the headrest.

“Yeah,” Aidan moaned in agreement, starting to move on top of the dildo. “Not to be rude,” he said breathily, “but this has a way cooler texture than your dick.”

“Fuck you,” Dean said fondly, jerking his chin to indicate to his husband that he wanted to be kissed. He grunted a little as Aidan pushed the vibrator down harder as he leaned in to bite his jaw and then kiss him deeply. “God, babe,” he hissed when the younger man pulled back.

Aidan groaned as quietly as he could, biting down on Dean’s neck to help muffle it. He was starting to think of the logistics of it all; he was hard and shaking with every movement of his erection on Dean’s stomach, but he couldn’t jerk himself off and hold the vibrator against his husband’s nipple at the same time. “Don’t think simultaneous orgasms are gonna happen today.”

Dean snorted as much as he could through a gasp of pleasure. “We’ve never been good at that,” he pointed out. “You can come first, babe. I tend to take longer.” He tugged on Aidan’s hair to drag the younger man’s head back so that he could lick at his pale, strong neck. “You can fuck around on your dick with the vibrator,” he added, grinning into the Irishman’s neck when he gasped loudly above him.

“God, you’re smart,” the brunet muttered, pulling the vibrator off of Dean’s chest and bending his hand awkwardly to press the bullet behind his balls. “Fuck!” he yelped, jerking his hips and then shaking a little as that changed the angle of the dildo inside of him. “Dean,” he cried out, leaning back into his husband’s strong hand to get support as he continued to ride the thick plastic toy. “Oh, shit.”

Watching raptly, Dean whispered, “Yeah, baby.” It wasn’t the most erudite thing to have come out of his mouth, but he dared anyone to be more coherent when watching someone as attractive as Aidan get close to orgasm. “That’s it,” he groaned encouragingly, watching as the younger man’s face screwed up. “Come all over me, babe.”

On top of the blond, Aidan was moving quickly and with purpose, panting as he pressed the vibrator a little harder against his perineum and slammed down a little harder on the dildo. He could feel himself getting close to release, his balls drawing up toward his body. “Fuck,” he groaned, falling against Dean’s chest and shuddering. “Fuck.” He let a noise out of his nose that had originated somewhere in his throat and spurted come against his husband’s stomach, gasping a little for air. “Jesus,” he groaned quietly, moving the vibrator when the sensation became too much. “Give me a sec,” he panted to Dean.

“No rush,” Dean said quietly, not minding in the slightest. He was turned on as hell, thanks to the show Aidan had put on for him, but he was patient and didn’t care if the Irishman needed a minute to pull himself together. “You looked so good like that, Ai—“ He was cut off with a sharp gasp as his husband pressed the vibrator against his nipple firmly. “Give a man some warning!”

Aidan grinned cheekily. “Hell no. I like watching you move like that,” he said, biting down forcefully on Dean’s jaw.

“Careful of hickeys,” Dean warned breathlessly, glad when Aidan moved his bites lower. “That the top speed?” he asked, groaning in pleasure when his husband responded by just hitting a button and kicking the vibrator up a notch. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“You look so good like this,” Aidan breathed. “If I hadn’t already come I would get off so hard watching you. You look so fucking hot, babe.” He began to rub the vibrator in small circles over the peaked nub of Dean’s nipple, liking the noise the older man made. “You gonna get off for me, babe?” he asked, running his left arm down the other man’s left side. “I want to hear you come, Dean.”

Head hitting his headrest hard, Dean panted loudly as Aidan kept going, giving him no break as the stimulation kept going, getting better and better with every moment. “Yes,” he whispered, trying as hard as he could to push his chest up and into the vibrator. He cried out quietly when the brunet took the hint and pressed down harder. “Fuck, fuck…” He felt the pleasure intensify with every little circle the vibrator made around his nipple, gasping and reaching for his peak…

“Aid, done,” he said a minute later.

“Not happening tonight?” Aidan asked lightly, pulling the vibrator away from his husband’s chest and turning it off.

“Guess not,” Dean said with a shrug. He was used to this happening; his body didn’t always work perfectly, and that included during sex. “That dildo’s gotta be killing you, babe. You need to move.” He watched sympathetically as Aidan stood up a little on his leg stumps and shifted himself off the vibrator, wincing. “You should’ve gotten off of it before you started on me.”

Aidan grinned. “Yeah, I realize that now,” he muttered, scooting back into his own wheelchair and unstrapping the dildo from his husband’s thigh. “Still felt good, yeah?” He knew that Dean liked sex, even when he didn’t have an orgasm, but he always worried that _this_ would be the time he didn’t like it.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “You’re always good at this.”


	53. lots happening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of racism

Despite having been married for nearly two years, Aidan couldn’t remember seeing Dean come home in full-on tears. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, leaving Patrick on the floor with his toys to go over to his husband. “Dean, what happened?”

The New Zealander shoved his smartphone into Aidan’s hand. Though the screen was dark, it was easy enough for the younger man to peck in Dean’s passcode and look at what was up. “Babe,” he said softly, tossing the phone onto the table next to them. “It’s awful, but it’s one asshole.”

“He still said it,” Dean replied thickly. “He wrote an article all about me being a great athlete and threw in a paragraph describing my son like… like _that_.” He hit the armrest on the right side of his wheelchair. “He called described Patrick’s skin as ‘yellow’ Aidan. It’s the twenty-first fucking century and a man called my child ‘yellow’ in an article that he published for the whole world to see.”

“I know, and it’s wrong and you’re going to do something about it, but right now you can go in and show that little boy you love him, okay?” Aidan said quietly, wiping his husband’s face with his thumb to clear away his tears. “Hey, Paddy, do you want to play with Daddy?” he called over, smiling when their son practically fell over in his haste to get over to his parents, still carrying his stuffed whale.

With a wide smile, his two teeth showing, Patrick tried to climb up Dean’s leg. “Daddy!” he said excitedly, clutching his older father’s shirt when the younger one lifted him up into his lap. He pointed over toward the living room hopefully and babbled a little, clearly wanting to go back to his toys and play. He looked a little closer at Dean’s face and, seeing the strained expression, calmed down a little. “Daddy,” he said softly, relaxing a little closer to his father and clumsily pushing his whale toward the blond man’s hand, which he patted with as much gentleness as he could manage.

“Thank you, buddy,” Dean said softly, craning his neck to kiss Patrick’s head and hugging the toy to show his appreciation. “You always know how to make Daddy feel better, don’t you? Do you want to read a story together?” He couldn’t get on the floor to play with his son, and while he was usually fine talking to Patrick and supervising from his chair, he wanted to be physically close to him.

Patrick smiled. “Re-uh,” he requested hopefully.

“Yeah, let’s go get your Korea book,” Dean said, holding Patrick as he rolled toward the living room. The book was on their coffee table—it was one of Patrick’s favorites and, like his other favorites, was kept out constantly. The Kiwi was glad that his son had asked for this book; after seeing horrifically racist things that day, it was nice to give his son positive messages about his biological heritage.

Knowing exactly what he had to do to get the story going, Patrick helped Dean open the book, holding one side with a chubby hand as he relaxed against his father’s chest. “Re-uh,” he repeated, sounding content.

“Korea,” Dean agreed. “A very long time ago, there was a man…” he began, reading at a slow pace so that Patrick could stare at and touch all of his favorite pictures.

Aidan watched for a few moments, feeling a little better, before pulling out his phone and opened his ongoing text with Manu. _Someone fucking called my kid fucking yellow in a fucking article on the internet what the fuck do I do?_

 _What the fuck._ The first message was short and clearly angry, but the little dots indicated that the other man was still typing.

_Get Dean to post about it on Facebook. People need to know. Call the offices tomorrow and tear them a new asshole._

Aidan’s jaw was clenched as he typed out the next part. _He said it was nice to see Dean take Patrick to events even though he isn’t his real son. We love him and he calls us his dads so clearly we’re his real fucking parents how hard is that to fucking get?_

 _It’s bullshit,_ said Manu’s next text. _Get Dean to post about it tonight, and call them tomorrow, but try to calm down for tonight. You have every right to be mad, and it’d be fucked if you weren’t, but have a beer and hug your kid. I’ll talk to the big people in team NZ to see if they can make a public statement about this so people know what this dickwad did._

 _Thanks. Beer and snuggles it is_ , Aidan typed back, and then set his phone aside, taking a couple of deep breaths. He had put a frozen lasagna in the oven once he had brought Patrick home, so he didn’t have to do anything except wait half an hour for dinner to be ready, so he grabbed a beer from the fridge and opened it before going to the living room to listen to Dean read their son a story.

When the older man finished, he turned his head to smile at Aidan. “Want to play on the floor with your favorite bug?” he asked.

“Of course I want to play with my bug!” Aidan said enthusiastically, putting his half-finished beer on the counter before sliding to the floor and grabbing Patrick from Dean’s lap. Looking up at his husband, he said in a more serious tone, “Manu suggested you post about the article on Facebook. People should know that someone did this and know it’s not okay.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” he admitted. “I guess I’ll do it. I’ve got to try not to swear.” He picked up his phone from where it sat on his lap and opened it, pulling up the Facebook app. _In an article about me as an athlete and person, an author talked about my son in racist terms and said that he isn’t my “real” son. Patrick is definitely my real son. I cried when I read this article, because I don’t want my son to grow up seeing messages like this. Aidan and I are his real parents, and so are his birth mother and father, just in a different way. He is biologically Korean, but that’s something to be proud of, not to be mocked or insulted for. I wanted to share this so that people know the attitudes that are still around, and so that the author can’t get away with saying these things._ He wasn’t sure if it was a great post, but it was hard to write about something emotional while sounding like he was a calm, rational person. He copied the article URL and pasted it into his update before hitting post.

Aidan could tell when Dean had posted his update because of the deep sigh from a few feet over. “Paddy, you know what?” he said seriously. “You should be proud of everything you are. You don’t have legs, you’re adopted, and you’re Asian. All of those are great. If anybody ever tells you different, they are mean and wrong. Da and Daddy love you so much,” he finished, leaning forward to kiss his son’s forehead.

“Your mom and your other dad both had parents from Korea, from what your mom told us, and you love Korea, don’t you?” Dean said with a smile. “I bet some day we’re gonna go there.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about you having some connection to there. Maybe we can find a book about speaking Korean, and you can go to classes. Wouldn’t that be fun?” he asked, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Yeah, that’d be fun,” Aidan said, picking their son up and swooping him over his head. He knew that serious talks were probably confusing for such a young child, and wanted him to have a good night. One giant asshole shouldn’t ruin their son’s happiness.

Dean looked at his son and husband fondly, trying to put all the bullshit of the day behind him.

* * *

“What the fuck was that article?” Cameron asked as he and Aidan got into rugby chairs the next day. Saturdays were fun days for the Irishman, since he got to play pickup rugby with a bunch of the Wheel Blacks. “Dan nearly punched a wall when he read it, and I don’t blame him.”

Aidan groaned. “I honestly didn’t think people were still that blatantly racist,” he admitted. “Probably because I’m white,” he added, pretty sure that it was a different experience for people of color. “Can we not talk about it right now? I barely slept last night thinking about it and I just need to blow off some steam.”

Cameron nodded immediately, picking a ball off of the ground and rolling out on the court to warm up with Aidan, Maia, and Gavin, their team for the morning. He could see that Maia and Gavin were looking at Aidan sympathetically, but after a few throws they focused on the rugby. It was probably a relief to the Irishman.

* * *

“Yeah, mum,” Dean muttered tersely. “We’re doing what we can,” he explained. “We’re calling the publishers on Monday. A bunch of our non-white friends are coming tonight to be sure he sees a bunch of positive role models all at once as soon as he can.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, Dean got Aidan to bring Patrick over to the computer to talk. “Gammy!” he yelled happily, reaching toward the screen. “Read?” he asked hopefully. His grandma often read him stories, and it was always fun for him. He settled into Dean’s lap happily as his grandmother found a picture book and began to read aloud.

Once the story was done, they all bade goodbye, and Patrick turned to his fathers, smiling. “Da!” he chirruped, reaching for Aidan and snuggling into his chest as soon as he was picked up. “Love,” he said contentedly.

“Love you too, bug,” Aidan said with a huge smile. “Are you excited to see Manu and Nafi and Sala tonight? They’re excited to see you. I think Maia’s coming too, and you love her.”

Patrick mumbled happily at the thought of seeing Manu and Maia. He didn’t know Nafi or Sala, but he loved meeting new people. “Nu-nu,” he said, cheerfully thinking of Manu.

“You look pretty tired, Paddy,” Dean commented. “Do you want a nap?” he asked, seeing his son let out a squeaky yawn. “Yeah, I think it’s nap time. Sleep tight, buddy!” he added as Patrick as Aidan took him into the nursery.

A couple minutes later, once Patrick was asleep, Aidan came back into the kitchen, sighing. “God, I still feel like shit about all of this,” he muttered. “Some racist-ass dickhole talked shit about my kid, and I’m just… tired.” He scooted into Dean’s lap and leaned into his chest.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said softly. “Most people online have been really supportive, but I saw a few shitty comments about… about fags with an Asian kid. They didn’t use the word Asian, though. I’m fucking done with the world.” He groaned quietly. “I’m so sick of this. Who says this shit about a fucking child?”

Aidan didn’t have an answer, so he just sighed against Dean’s chest. “We need more Asian friends. We’ve got a lot of Pacific Islander friends, but we need some East Asian role models for Paddy.”

“You know Chuck Aoki?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, US wheelchair rugby,” Aidan answered. “I guess I can try to reach out to him, have him Skype with Patrick. It’s kind of weird Skyping with a baby about racial pride or whatever, but he might be up for it. Our kid needs someone. There’s only so much white people can tell you about not letting racism get to you.”

Dean nodded. “Can we just have a fucking break from getting shit about our kid and our marriage? First your boss, and now this?” He thumped his head against his headrest. “One good week. That’s all I want right now!”

“Me too.”

* * *

“Paddy, look!” Dean said happily to the child in his lap, clicking around on his computer, which was on the kitchen table in front of them. “We just got tickets to go to Seoul after Daddy finishes with the closing ceremonies in Tokyo. You get to see where your mommy and other daddy’s families are from! Korea!”

“Re-uh!” Patrick echoed, clearly excited. “Daddy Da re-uh?”

Aidan rolled up next to Dean and kissed the back of Patrick’s head. “That’s right, bug. Daddy and Da are going with you to Korea.” He looked at the computer screen. “That should be good. The flight is less than three hours, so we won’t need the aisle chair to go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll still wear the cath,” Dean said. “Buddy, are you going to eat lots of food in Tokyo? Daddy can’t wait to try some real ramen.” He smiled over at Aidan. “I’ll be lonely without you in the athlete’s village.”

The younger man smiled too. “I’ll text you a lot,” he promised. “And snap you selfies with Paddy. He’s going to miss you so much. Two weeks is a long time. Daddy is going to run a lot,” he told his son.

“Daddy ruh?” Patrick asked, sounding interested.

“Yep,” Aidan answered. “Daddy’s going to run a lot for the Paralympics. Do you think he’s going to win?” When Patrick just smiled, his little teeth showing, Aidan agreed, “I think so too. He’s the best racer in the world, and he’s going to do seven events, because Josh George made him try out for the marathon, and he got in!”

* * *

A few months later, Dean sat at the starting line, trying not to worry. He knew he was good, but the nerves would never go away. He felt a weird pressure to win with his son there, but he tried to remind himself that he knew what he was doing, and he could win.

As he looked at the other men on the starting line, Dean saw Lee Pace and Michael Persbrant with him, as well as a couple of others that he didn’t know very well. He focused forward again as he heard the announcement of all the competitors’ names and lane numbers. He tried to center himself, and as soon as the starting gone sounded, he was off.

A two-hundred meter race meant pure sprint. There was no long period of race pace or anything like that, but just going as fast as possible to the finish line. Dean could see Pace out of the corner of his eye, and he would be damned if he let that American beat him. He pushed harder, refusing to let the other man pass him. When he rolled over the finish line just a foot before Pace, he raised a hand in victory before turning to the other man. “First event in the summer games and you got a silver? Fucking badass,” he panted.

“Next one is gold,” Pace replied breathlessly. “Watch out, O’Gorman.”

Dean just grinned tiredly, slowing down as he finished the last straightaway and headed toward his coach. “Gold medal, bitches!” he crowed, grinning tiredly at his coach.

“Fucking A,” Peter responded, bringing Dean’s regular wheelchair close to his racer. “You’ve only got a couple minutes before the medal ceremony,” he reminded his athlete as one of the PCAs hired for the team came over to help the blond with his transfer between chairs. “Go grab a few ice packs,” the coach instructed the aide after Dean was settled.

The blond took a towel and wiped his face with a tired hand. “I can’t believe I have six more events,” he groaned. He loved racing, but when the adrenaline started wearing off, he rethought how many distances he did. “Thanks,” he mumbled when his temporary aide came back with three ice packs, which he put on the athlete: one on the back of his neck, one on his lap, and one behind his back.

“Let me know if those are too much,” the aide said seriously, knowing that temperature fluctuation could be fast for someone without the ability to regulate.

It was kind of late by the time Dean got to see his family, but he perked up and felt more awake when they came into his eye line. “There are my guys!” he said excitedly, rushing over to hug his husband and son.

“Daddy!” Patrick squealed, practically leaping into the Kiwi’s lap when he was close enough. “Daddy win!”

“That’s right,” Aidan agreed, leaning over to kiss Dean’s cheek proudly. “Daddy _did_ win!” He couldn’t stop smiling, and leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you a lot over the past couple weeks,” he informed him. The older man had moved into the athletes’ village as soon as they had gotten to Tokyo, and only athletes, coaches, and personal care attendants were allowed in. “You picking up any guys in there?” he teased.

“Loads,” Dean answered with a grin, turning his head to kiss Aidan’s temple. “Paddy, have you eaten Japanese food with Da yet? Do you like it?”

Patrick looked up from where he was busy playing with his older father’s gold medal. “Yum!” he informed the blond.

“I bet so,” Dean said happily. “I love you, buddy. You need to be good for Da, okay? Make his life easier.” He knew that Jed’s wife and Aidan were working together to take care of their kids and give each other breaks, but it was still easier to parent with your partner rather than someone else’s.

“We can FaceTime tonight,” Aidan promised. “I’m so proud of you, babe.” He kissed the New Zealander’s lips softly before regretfully pulling away. “You need to eat,” he pointed out. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Dean answered, and said the same to his son.

As Aidan pulled Patrick out of Dean’s lap, the little boy began to cry. “Daddy!” he sobbed, reaching out and clutching the air near his father.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I’m sorry,” Dean said, feeling terrible as he left his crying son and his husband. He still felt bad when he got back to the athletes’ village, finding Manu in the cafeteria. “Do your kids still cry when you leave?” he asked heavily as the other man stood up to help him get a plate of food.

Manu shook his head. “They’re old enough not to anymore,” he informed him, putting salad, a roll, and a few slices of chicken on the plate. “Patrick upset when you came back?”

“Cried a lot,” Dean answered sadly. “Just a couple weeks though, right?”

“Exactly,” Manu replied. “Then you’re taking the kid to Korea and everything’s gonna be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently this is transracial adoption feelings time.
> 
> but yay tokyo!


	54. Finish in Tokyo, Onto Korea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont wanna b a dick who brags n authors notes but my crew times r rly rly close 2 the elite times n my category so im feeling p legit these days :)

“Patrick’s birthday is Monday,” Dean told Jed proudly, smiling. “We’ll be in Korea then. My little guy is gonna be two!”

The older man grinned. “That’s so great! You’ll have to wish him happy birthday from us,” he said, bringing his feet up on the couch to stretch out more comfortably. “Can’t believe we’re more than halfway done here,” he added idly, looking up at the ceiling. “You’ve got, what, two more events before the closing ceremonies?”

Adjusting the tilt of his chair, Dean nodded. “Yeah, the 800 and the 500. I’m ready to be done,” he admitted. “The marathon pretty much killed me.”

“It looked…” Jed searched for a considerate word. “Rough.”

Dean snorted. “You can say it. It looked like hell, but worse. I pissed myself halfway through, fell over a mile from the finish line, and threw up at the end.” It had not been his proudest moment. “I know fifth place isn’t losing or anything, but it sure as hell wasn’t winning.” He groaned. “I need another win to feel better about that one.”

“Only you would need a pick-me-up after winning four golds already,” Jed said with a smirk, but his face got a little more serious after that. “It was your second marathon, Dean. You did well, even with all of that.”

“Yeah, but it was a really public place to do all those… bodily functions,” the blond pointed out. “Whatever. 500 and 800 are good events for me, and I’m taking back my damn record in the 500.”

Jed grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

* * *

Though he won the 800, it was only by a hair, and Dean’s self-confidence was stretched a little thin by the time he came up to his final event, the 500 meter sprint. He took a few deep breaths at the starting line, staring straight ahead and ignoring all of the competitors in the lanes beside him. Just one lap and a quarter, he reminded himself. He did more than that for his daily warm-up. He just needed to finish this, and then it was closing ceremony and finally getting to be with his family again. He had seen them briefly after every event, but he hadn’t spent more than an hour or so with them at a time. At this point, all he wanted was to read books to his son and share a bed with his husband. Okay, he also wanted to have torrid, passionate sex with his husband, but that might have to wait until they got back from Korea. Sharing a room with a two-year-old was not a conducive atmosphere for any sort of sexual activity.

Once the starting gun sounded, Dean shoved his handrims hard, his strokes per minute absurdly fast to get the momentum he needed to start his sprint. He couldn’t look in the other lanes, because he was emotionally exhausted and, for once, didn’t think that trying to beat other people was what he needed. Instead, he focused on beating himself, trying to beat his own personal best. Anyway, the faster he finished the race, the faster the games were over. In Rio, he hadn’t wanted them to ever end, but here, he was ready to be done.

Clenching his jaw in determination, Dean pushed himself a little harder through the next curve. He opened his mouth and breathed heavily, lungs burning a little as he sprinted as fast as he possibly could. The finish line was just ahead, and he couldn’t see anyone in his peripheral vision. He was first. Ten more strokes and he would be there. Nine. Eight. Seven… he wasn’t saving up energy for other events anymore. He could really let loose. The last three strokes took all of his strength, and he felt like he barely had the ability to lift his hand in victory after he crossed the line first. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself, jogging it out as he tried to get his heart rate back to normal. “Okay, I’m done, time to sleep forever,” he told Peter as he moved off the track to where the coaches were.

“You know how you wanted to get that world record back?” Peter asked with a grin.

It felt like a minor miracle when Dean managed to find the energy to pull his facial muscles into a smile. “Fuck yeah,” he groaned. “I’m so tired, man.”

“I know,” Peter assured him. “You’ve practically worked yourself to death over the past two weeks. Getting six golds isn’t easy.”

Dean winced. “And the mortifying experience of the marathon.”

“Look, you finished in fifth place. That’s good,” Peter reminded him. “Get your medal, see your family, and then sleep for a couple days and head to Korea with Aidan and Patrick, okay?”

The blond nodded tiredly. “Yeah, that’s… good plan.” He sighed in relief when he was helped back into his power chair, tilting immediately to take pressure off of his back. Within an hour, he had a lapful of happy child and an emotional husband at his elbow.

“You did so well,” Aidan said softly, eyes a little teary. “Six golds, and you got fifth place in your second marathon. I’m so freaking proud of you, Deano. And Patrick is too,” he added, watching as the toddler perked up at the sound of his own name.

“Daddy win,” he said seriously, happy when Dean hugged him tightly.

The blond could feel his energy flagging with every moment, but he wasn’t willing to give up the small amount of time he had with his family. “Closing ceremony is tomorrow,” he explained to his son. “Then Daddy’s gonna come to the hotel with you and Da for a night, and then we’re all going to Korea.”

“Re-uh,” Patrick echoed. Over the past couple months, he had gotten more than a little excited over the prospect of going there, and had insisted on reading his book on the country even more than he had before.

Aidan reached up with his hand and began to massage one of his husband’s tight shoulders. “Hey, bug, we might need to let Daddy sleep,” he told his son, watching Dean’s eyelids droop. “We’ll see him tomorrow, and he gets to come back with us. Can you say bye-bye?” he asked.

Though he didn’t cry this time, Patrick was still unhappy to say goodbye to his older father, and sniffed a bit as Aidan took him away, heading to a nearby food cart he had found to get ramen to share with his son. “Just one more day and he’ll be with us again. I know it’s been a long few weeks, but we’ll get him back. He’s missed us a lot too, you know. Do you think he’s going to want ramen tomorrow?” He was careful not to actually say the word “Daddy” to further remind Patrick of Dean’s absence. Instead, he took him back to their hotel room, where he sat on the bed with him, making sure their food was cool before they began to eat.

* * *

“I missed you so much, Paddy,” Dean cooed as he lay on the big hotel bed with his son on his chest. “That was a long time without you! But we get to celebrate your birthday in a couple days. We’ll be in Korea. That’s going to be so fun, buddy. You get to see where your biological roots are while you turn two. How great is that?”

Patrick just snuggled down into his father’s warm chest, ecstatic to have him back after nearly a month. “Ra-meh,” he suggested hopefully when he heard the Kiwi’s stomach rumble below him, the noise making him giggle a bit.

“He really likes ramen,” Aidan said, he amused voice practically right in Dean’s ear with how close he was curled to him. “I think it’s pretty close to dinnertime,” he told Patrick cheerfully. “You can stay here with Daddy and I’ll pick some ramen for all of us and bring it back here. Does that sound good, bug?” he asked.

Next to him, Dean nodded. “Get me something with beef,” he told Aidan. The food in the athletes’ village was good, as a rule, but the beef tended not to be. “We’ll hang out here and watch cartoons.” He sighed, pushing himself up a little. “I need to get in my wheelchair so I can take him to the toilet when he needs to go,” he told his husband when the brunet quirked an eyebrow.

“Good point,” Aidan agreed, taking Patrick so that Dean could sit up. He put their son on the floor to help the blond transfer, and then got in his own chair. “I’ll be back soon with ramen, guys,” he promised, hearing the sound of cartoons on the television as he left.

Dean let Patrick climb into his lap, just glad to be with him again. “I can’t believe you’re going to be two soon,” he said, just to make conversation. “You’re growing up so fast. It doesn’t feel like two years ago when we met you at the hospital. You were so tiny then! Now you’re our big guy who can walk and talk and everything.”

Patrick pointed at himself proudly. “Walk!”

“Yep, you’re the family walker,” Dean agreed. “Do you like these cartoons?” he asked, looking at the television screen. “I don’t know what they’re saying, but they look pretty fun, don’t they?” He smiled as Patrick leaned back into his chest, looking a little tired.

“Ra-meh,” the little boy said, wondering where his food was. He was used to eating relatively quickly once he said he was hungry, as he and his younger father had gone out for street food a little early most nights, but now they were eating at a normal time.

Luckily, Aidan was back within ten minutes, and they were soon eating together, with the brunet supervising Patrick’s messy attempts at feeding himself. “You still sore?” he asked his husband as he held a napkin out to catch the noodles dripping down Patrick’s chin.

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said, nodding. “I’m pretty sure I’ll never stop being sore.” He carefully put another bite into his mouth, feeling a little annoyed when half the noodles fell into his lap after falling off his spoon. “Paddy, eating is basically the hardest thing ever, isn’t it?” he asked his son, who smiled widely, his tiny teeth all showing. “Can I sleep forever?” he asked his husband hopefully.

Aidan grinned. “In a sec,” he promised. “Need a shower?” When Dean shook his head, he said, “Okay, let’s go to the bathroom and then you can go to bed, babe. You look like you might fall asleep in the next ten seconds.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause I might,” Dean admitted, groaning. He waited as Aidan put Patrick in his little playpen, and then led the younger man into the bathroom. “I’ve missed you,” he said fondly, leaning as much as he could so that he could kiss the brunet.

“Missed you too,” Aidan replied, pressing an answering kiss back to Dean’s lips. “I’ve been so proud of you, and I love watching you win, but a month without you is a long time.” He pulled regretfully away from the older man. “You need to go to the toilet, brush your teeth, and sleep,” he said firmly, seeing how Dean’s eyelids were drooping.

Dean nodded, looking a bit out of it from exhaustion. “Right,” he said, letting Aidan lift him onto the toilet and get his pants down. “You know, this is the best time to need a ton of help,” he said conversationally as Aidan began to deal with his cath bag and then the condom attachment. “Because I don’t have the energy to do shit.”

The brunet grinned cheerfully. “I’d probably help you even if you could so this yourself,” he admitted. “You deserve to have a break.” After rinsing out the bag and throwing the condom part away, he snapped on a glove to start Dean’s bowel routine. “You know, we’ve been married over two years. You can make eye contact with me while you shit,” he pointed out as Dean looked straight ahead.

With a bit of a laugh, Dean turned toward Aidan’s face. “I had twenty-one years of learning that shitting was not something you do in front of people.”

“And seven to learn it’s pretty normal,” Aidan argued. “It’s okay if you can’t, I’m just saying that you can. We can hang out and talk about shit.” He smirked. “Okay, wrong word. But it doesn’t need to be a silent thing where you feel ashamed.”

“There’s only one situation where I like having your finger in my ass, and this isn’t it,” Dean told the younger man with a hint of a smile. “If I didn’t need you to do this, I wouldn’t—“

Aidan rolled his eyes. “But you do need me to do it,” he said bluntly. “It’s fine. So you need some help. Whatever.” He leaned forward and kissed his husband’s cheek, and then laughed a little. “Okay, this does smell terrible,” he admitted. “I love you, but I guess the food wasn’t that great.”

The blond blushed a little. “Shut up,” he said, but there was no venom behind the words, and he bumped his head against the Irishman’s lovingly. “I want to bang you,” he told the younger man frankly, “but this totally isn’t the time or place. Can’t bang with a toddler sharing the room.”

“When we get back, I’ll make up for it,” Aidan promised, biting his lip as though shy. He wasn’t shy about this in the slightest, but he knew how much Dean loved that face. “I’ll make up for it a lot. I bet Jed would take Patrick for a night so we can check into a hotel and… well. I’ll definitely make up for having to wait so long. Six golds deserve a lot of reward,” he added in a purr.

“Not the time to get all sexy about it,” Dean pointed out. “Let’s finish up in here so I can sleep and you can get our son ready for bed.” He felt like he could barely keep his eyes open as Aidan helped him finish up with toileting and brushed his teeth for him. Usually he wanted to do things as independently as he could, so that Aidan was helping instead of doing things for him, but he was so tired that he was sure his coordination was shit. “Thanks, babe,” he said as they left the bathroom. “Goodnight, Patrick,” he said through a yawn as he passed his son, and within ten minutes he was out like a light.

* * *

“Korea!” Patrick said excitedly, looking over at Dean with a huge smile on his face.

His fathers both looked at him happily. “That’s right,” the Kiwi told his son indulgently. “We’re going to Korea to see where your biological grandparents are from! We get to eat the food and see the culture!”

“Is this your first time to Korea?” the woman next to them asked, her voice accented but her English perfect.

“Yeah,” Aidan answered. “Our son’s been talking about it for weeks.”

“His bioli… biolo… biological,” she began, stumbling over the word, “they are Korean?”

Aidan nodded, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “He won’t ever meet them, and we only met his mother once, but we wanted him to see where his roots are. We want him to be proud of being Korean,” he explained, hearing Patrick talking cheerfully to Dean behind him as the woman next to him told him about the best places to visit in Seoul, and foods to try in addition to bibimbap.

“Can you tell me what you want to see in Korea?” Dean asked his son, who nodded.

“Food!” the little boy answered. “Uh…” he paused. “See place?” he suggested.

The blond grinned back at Patrick. “Those are good ideas. We’ll have a lot of good food, and see all kinds of places. We’ll learn about history and maybe we can find food to make at home. Do you remember your Korean words?”

“Annyong!” Patrick chirruped happily. “Sigpum! Salang!” He had learned those three words at home with his parents. _Hello, food,_ and _love._ Those were the ones they used at home. Later, Aidan and Dean planned to enroll him in an actual Korean language class, but he wasn’t old enough yet. Those three words were good, though, and his fathers frequently told him that they loved him in Korean: _Salanghae._

The woman next to Aidan looked across the Irishman and smiled at Patrick. “He’s good,” she told his proud parents. “You have a smart child.” She spent the rest of the flight—two hours—talking to the family and working on teaching Patrick new words. With only a few words under his belt, Aidan found himself thanking God that there was a Google translate app, which even showed characters so that if he couldn’t pronounce words, he could show people what he was attempting to say. He couldn’t pronounce most Gaelic words, so he didn’t have high hopes for his ability to speak Korean.

When they landed, Dean and Aidan talked cheerfully with Patrick until they finally got off of the plane and into their wheelchairs, with Patrick in the stroller attached to Aidan’s. He was getting a little big for it, but there was no easy way to take him around until he could walk for long periods of time—and didn’t run off—it was the best thing they had. Patrick sat up in the stroller to look around excitedly, staring at everything in the airport and all the people with a skin color like his.

* * *

By the time they were in the hotel, Patrick was clearly itching to go out and see everything, as well as taste the food. “Sigpum! Sigpum!” he begged, running around between his fathers as they put their toiletries in the bathroom and then moved their suitcases to a chair and an ottoman in order to get them off of the ground for easier maneuver their two wheelchairs around.

“Give us a couple minutes, bug,” Aidan said calmly, careful as he turned his chair around so that he wouldn’t run into Patrick or run over his feet. Despite the fact that his feet were prosthetic, running over them wouldn’t be good.

Patrick sighed as deeply as a two-year-old could, but he stopped bugging his parents and instead tried climb up on the bed before Dean noticed and pulled him into his lap to keep him from falling. “Sigpum soon,” he promised. “I think we’re going to start with bibimbap and branch out to other foods starting tomorrow. Do you know what tomorrow is? It’s your birthday!”

The little boy clapped his hands excitedly, not really sure what made birthdays so good, but he knew from how his parents had talked about it that it would be great. He bounced happily on his older father’s lap, watching impatiently as Aidan changed clothes. “Da,” he complained. “Sigpum!”

Despite wanting to teach his son patience, Aidan couldn’t help but speed up. His son was so happy to be in Korea, and he wanted to get the little guy out of the hotel to see the city. “One minute, bug,” he said, quickly pulling one a shirt nicer than the one he had worn for travelling. “Okay, let’s go get you some sigpum!” he told his son, taking him from Dean and putting him in his stroller.

Both men felt a little lost in the casual restaurant that the hotel clerk had recommended. The menu had transliterations into the English alphabet, and there were English descriptions of each dish, but the language around them was unfamiliar, which was just… different. They ordered in stumbling, bad Korean, but the waiter smiled at them before he went back to the kitchen.

“Paddy, do you like it here so far?” Dean asked, loving his son’s ecstatic expression as he looked around at the people in the restaurant and the art on the walls. He kept calling out to his fathers and pointing at things happily.

“See?” Patrick asked, and his fathers said they did, despite being unsure what exactly the child was pointing at. “Sigpum!” he yelled excitedly when the waiter returned to their table with two steaming bowls of bibimbap and an extra plate.

“Ye, sigpum,” the waiter replied, glad to see the young child trying out his Korean. “Tell me if you need more,” he said haltingly, trying and succeeding to get his English right on the first time.

“Gomabseubnida,” Dean said, hoping that he was pronouncing his thanks correctly. He spooned some of his food onto Patrick’s plate carefully, but he still managed to spill some of it on the table.

Patrick smiled widely. “Uh-oh!” he announced, wiggling happily. He loved to watch things mess up, like when he crashed his trains or dropped his dolls, or either of his fathers dropped anything. “Daddy made mess.”

“That I did,” the New Zealander agreed. “Maybe Da should give you your food.”

Aidan took the obvious hint and gave Patrick some of his food before putting a bib on him and handing him a child-sized plastic spoon. He winced a little as his son immediately made a mess, but he knew that expecting clean eating from a two-year-old was hopeless. “Paddy, slow down,” he said, though he knew that it wasn’t likely help.

It didn’t. Patrick had bibimbap sauce and rice all over his face. He pulled back when Dean reached over to wipe his face, but the man managed to get most of the stuff off of his face. The rest could come off in the bath. By the time they got back to the hotel and got Patrick washed and in bed, both Aidan and Dean found that neither of them were tired. “This is a shitty time to be up with a kid asleep,” the Irishman muttered, pulling off his own shirt and then Dean’s. “At home, we’d be alone in our room and I’d grab a bunch of toys and throw you in bed.”

“Yeah, you aren’t making this any easier,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “You can keep a list of what you want to do with me on your phone so you can do all of it when we get home,” he suggested. “It’ll make getting home extra good.”

Aidan sighed. “I can’t even just give you a blowjob in the shower,” he lamented. “I guess I can at least kiss you all night.” He smiled, pulling himself into Dean’s lap carefully and pressing his lips against the older man’s. “Wait,” he said, sliding back into his own chair. “We’ve got some room over here with a bit of a wall between us and Paddy. We can’t have sex, but…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

The wheelchair accessible rooms in the hotel were all more like suites, with a wall going halfway across the room to separate the bed from the little living area. Patrick’s wheelchair was next to the bed, so Aidan and Dean moved toward the couch and TV. “You want to get on the couch or my chair?” the blond asked in a soft voice, not taking even the smallest risk of waking Patrick up.

“I’d say the couch,” Aidan answered, helping his husband transfer onto the squishy cushions of the couch and then getting on top of him, straddling his hips and bracing his arms on either side of Dean’s head before leaning down to kiss him deeply, trying not to groan too loudly as he did so. The older man had been in the athlete’s village for a month, and it had been a few years since Aidan had gone that long without making out with him.

Dean sighed against his the brunet, moving his hands to Aidan’s perfect, muscular ass. “God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered into his husband’s hair, sliding his more flexible right hand into the back pocket of Aidan’s jeans to put less fabric between him and his husband, squeezing roughly. “Fuck,” he groaned quietly, letting his head fall back into the cushions below with a soft thump. “You’re getting me really riled up and we can’t do shit about it.”

“Maybe I can do a little something about it,” Aidan said in a low voice, moving so that his face was directly over Dean’s and grinning. “If you’re quiet,” he added. “You can’t make any noise, okay? You make noise, we have to stop.”

“What are you going to do for me?” Dean whispered, forcing himself to speak in as soft a voice as possible. He didn’t know what Aidan planned to do, but he knew he didn’t want the younger man to stop before he started.

Aidan leaned down and kissed his husband’s neck, biting down only the tiniest bit. He didn’t want to bite any harder, not at first, or Dean might make noise. “There’s a lot I can do,” he purred into Dean’s ear. “I can blow you, get out a glove and finger you… or I can play with those tits til you come.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Tits?” he repeated.

The brunet blushed, his face growing warm against the skin of Dean’s shoulder. “I saw a… thing. Where a guy said that to the bottom and it was… Never mind,” he muttered.

“I mean, if it gets you off, go for it,” Dean said quickly. “It’s not my thing, but it doesn’t turn me off or anything.” He put his hand into his husband’s brown curls and pulled him up so he could see his face. “You can do the tit thing.”

Aidan looked a little confused. “I can say it, or you want me to play with yours?” he asked.

“Both,” Dean replied calmly, but he inhaled sharply when the younger man leaned all his weight on his right arm so that he could bring his hand to Dean’s chest and pinch his nipple, which hardened up immediately under his nimble fingers. “You can say whatever you want, because that feels so good,” he whispered.

With a smirk, Aidan pinched a bit harder. “Whatever I want?” he asked. “That’s giving me a lot of leeway. I could say something gross.”

“Baby, you’ve yet to gross me out in bed,” Dean pointed out, biting his lip to stay quiet when Aidan’s stump rubbed against his other nipple. That one had less sensation, but enough that it still felt good. “Come on,” he whispered. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

Blushing again, Aidan moved his mouth up next to Dean’s ear, nipping at the lobe before starting to speak. “We aren’t _that_ kinky, are we?” he asked, pinching sensitive skin again and making his husband gasp. “Toys are par for the course for crips, ‘cause sex can be harder for us. We could stand to try a little more. So I can talk about those tits, those strong fucking tits, and maybe we’ll get some more creative shit when we get home. Or we can watch porn together and pick kinks from there,” he growled, thrusting his growing erection against the older man’s stomach. “You think you’d want to do that? You watch much porn before I came along?” When he didn’t get an answer, he twisted the nipple that was between his fingers. “I asked you a question.”

Dean breathed in shakily, arching his head back a little. “A bit,” he answered breathlessly. “I mean, I tried, but I couldn’t wank, so there wasn’t much point. I watched in when I was abled, though. God, I loved watching those men.”

Aidan smirked, rubbing his stump into Dean’s left nipple rhythmically. “We’re going to watch together, then,” he promised throatily. “I’ll look up some kinky shit and see what we like.” He shook a bit as his briefs dragged over the head of his cock, which was slick with precome. “Do you want to get hard?” he asked, returning all of his attention to the New Zealander’s torso when he got a shake of the head in return. “We’ll watch so much fucking porn, and I’ll wank you. It’ll make up for the years when you couldn’t.”

The older man shuddered. “You got any kinks you haven’t told me about?” he asked, trying unsuccessfully to press his chest up into Aidan’s hands. “No matter what it is, I want to know,” he wheedled when the brunet didn’t reply immediately.

“Fuck,” Aidan muttered, snapping his hips against his husband’s stomach a little faster and playing with Dean’s nipples with more purpose now. “I don’t know,” he groaned quietly into the older man’s ear. “Nothing major. I’d’ve told you if there was something I couldn’t live without. I guess… I guess I like the tits thing. And… and I like…” He sighed softly. “It’s ridiculous.”

“You can tell me anything you like,” Dean breathed, gasping as Aidan pinched harder and brought him closer to the edge. “You know you can, baby.”

With a show of confidence he didn’t quite feel, Aidan admitted, “I like how you get a bit hard when I put the condom cath on. Which, like, isn’t a kink and is weird because it’s how you pee, but your body likes it and…”

Dean grunted quietly. “You can like that, babe. Don’t know what we’ll do with that, but you can like it.” He let out a strangled moan. “If you don’t get me off soon, I’m going to die.”

“Overdramatic,” Aidan hissed, but he bit down hard on Dean’s neck and tugged on his left nipple, his right arm coming up to muffle his husband’s noises as he shivered and gasped through an orgasm. “That’s good, baby,” he praised, thrusting his hips a little harder so that he was rutting against the older man hard enough to get off. “Oh, fuck, baby, oh fuck,” he whispered, leaning into Dean’s shoulder and whimpering. “I’m gonna come,” he groaned, biting down on golden skin to keep from making too much noise as he came in his pants like a teenager, loving every second of it.

Dean took a minute to catch his breath, and then pet at Aidan’s hair gently. “That was good,” he whispered, smiling. “You’re pretty damn hot.”

The younger man laughed quietly, clearly a bit embarrassed about the things he had said. “We don’t have to do the shit I talked about. That was—“

“What you like,” Dean interrupted. “I like pleasing you, babe. I’ll do the things you want. If you want to do something after putting on the condom for my cath, we can. I don’t really get it, but once you start something, I’ll get into it.”

Aidan groaned quietly, flopping forward to lie on Dean’s chest tiredly. “I can’t believe I said that. I know it’s weird, but… whatever, we’ll figure it out when we get home,” he mumbled, not wanting to hear Dean comfort him about it anymore that night. “I’ll get our pajamas and we can get in bed,” he whispered, kissing his husband’s temple as he got up and headed to their suitcase.

Dean stayed on the couch, panting, as he waited for the Irishman to return and help him get ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if this sex scene is good but i hope it is


End file.
